


Osmosis

by zizi_west



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Cuddling, Dancing, Enterprise, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Interracial Relationship, Intrigue, May-December (older woman), Mild Kink, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, Sexual Content, Vulcans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 73,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zizi_west/pseuds/zizi_west
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 stranded Vulcans, stressed crew, & possible sabotage on the Enterprise. Nyota searches for clues & her loving bondmate, Spock feels neglected. Jim Kirk tries to keep the peace aboard a threatened ship and finds unexpected comfort. Engineers Scotty and Charlene Masters learn that science can't explain intuition, or romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected Guests

**Osmosis**

 **A STXI Spock/Uhura Fanfic**

Characters: Spock/Uhura (eastablished relationship), James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov, Montgomery Scott/Charlene Masters, Gaila in later chapters, OCs. Includes characters and references to situations in my shorter fic 'The Couch' & the long story 'Savages', but it should be possible to follow this story without having read either of the others.

Romance, adventure,fluff/coziness, OCs, some Emo!Spock, whimsy. Early chapters rated T. Some M-rated and MA-rated content in later chapters.  
Please note: there are some TOS/STXI mashup elements in this story. A few TOS characters appear, and TOS fans will recognize some story elements from 'Day of the Dove' and other episodes.

 ** Chapter 1: Unexpected Guests **

…

The bridge of the Enterprise, USS starship NCC-1701

In the orbit of Algid-17, Planetary System JoBakair

Late in the year 2262

"Cigar," drawled Dr. Leonard McCoy.

"Cough lozenge. What do you think it looks like, Sulu?" Nyota Uhura said, turning away from the ship's broad, wraparound viewscreen to grin at Hikaru Sulu.

"Swim float," replied Sulu. The athletic helmsman kept the Enterprise in steady orbit around the nearly oval-shaped dwarf planet Algid-17. Captain Jim Kirk, Ensign Pavel Chekov, First Officer Spock, and Ensign Charlie Steap, outfitted in pressurized suits, trod the cold surface below. In accordance with his rank in the chain of command, Leonard McCoy temporarily occupied the Captain's chair.

Oddly beautiful, the oblong greenish-white planet orbited the habitable zone around the sun like star Etta J-38. JoBakair was an active, if sparsely populated galactic sector. In addition to Algid 17, the zone the Enterprise presently occupied housed a 'water world' planet new to the Federation, as well as terrestrial planets including Alpha Cachette, home to Federation Starbase 231.

Normally she avoided chatter during a landing party mission, but Nyota couldn't resist commenting on Algid-17's unusual shape, thought to be the result of gravitational effects linked to its fast rotation around Etta-J38. One day on Algid-17 lasted only four Standard hours. "I'm so accustomed to seeing spheroid planets; this is exciting," Nyota murmured. "The observation deck may get a little bit crowded while we're in orbit."

"'Tis an éclair, without chocolate," Scotty said from the transporter room, where he monitored the landing party's communications feed. "Or the sort of football that Yanks use for their games – not real football, mind you, but it'll do in a pinch."

A soft chuckle sounded through Nyota's earpiece, indicating that Lieutenant Charlene Masters worked beside the Chief Engineer of the Enterprise. Charlene was still dividing her time between Engineering and Sciences, then. During the past several months, the hard-working, friendly engineer worked beside Scotty with increasing frequency. Some crew speculated that Montgomery Scott's interest in Charlene went beyond her technical skills. Although she considered Charlene a friend, Nyota chose to wait for Charlene to address the subject herself. Gossip made even a large Constitution-class starship feel terribly small.

Nyota smiled towards the camera carrying a live video feed from the bridge to Engineering, and then focused her attention on the landing party. As the crew moved across Algid-17's surface they spoke little, recording images of the base and gathering samples.

"Ten minutes left." Spock spoke into the comm mounted inside his helmet. Although breathable by humanoids, the atmosphere on Algid-17 was thin, cold, and often carried the sharp scent of mineral deposits. Over thirty percent of the 1,200-kilometer long planet's surface was covered in snow and ice, the rest with muddy prairie and low, twisted trees.

Despite the physical distance between them, Nyota felt a heightened attentiveness to Spock's movements and safety. Perhaps it was illogical to worry about a landing party visiting an uninhabited planet, but Starfleet life taught one that things are seldom as they seem. During research or work hours, each kept their side of their mental bond quiet, concentrating on their respective duties. Classified Starfleet information remained secret and unshared.

Spock kept his attention on his work, holding the pleasant anticipation of cuddling with Nyota at the edge of his thoughts. Before beaming down to Algid-17, he'd returned from a five-day away mission to find Nyota busily working a schedule that gave the couple separate sleep and duty shifts for an additional day. Spock craved skin contact beyond their "Welcome home" kiss. The peach-colored satin negligee he'd seen half-tucked under the pillow on her side of their bed hinted at plans for a warm celebration of his return tonight.

Some years earlier, research teams established a chain of small bases on Algid-17's surface. The inhospitable climate and lack of room for expansion resulted in the abandonment of the project. Now small freighters and privately owned ships, not all of them linked to the Federation, sometimes landed on its empty airstrips, using the remaining buildings for temporary shelter. Efforts to turn the dwarf planet into a refueling station fell through; most space businesses sought greater comforts than the icy oblong offered.

The Enterprise landing party conducted their survey quickly. The base looked abandoned, with a few boxes and fuel tanks scattered around an empty building. Ensign Steap stood beside one box, an empty soil sample vial in one hand. He kicked at the half-frozen, slushy surface dirt, glad when the bridge chatter ended. A man of his talents deserved to be assigned to more exciting landing party missions than this one, he decided. He'd seen more action in his back yard on Earth.

Chekov concluded a few surveying tasks several meters away while Spock gathered a few additional pieces of data with a tricorder. Captain Kirk spoke to the ship, relaying his observations and requesting to speak to Mr. Scott. Within minutes they would beam back up to the ship.

A shrill chirp sounded in Nyota's earpiece, then an earnest voice speaking the ragged half of a sentence mixing Standard and Vulcan words.

"– help us, please, sanoi. We are stranded here and cannot -"

Frowning, Nyota hit an alert switch on the panel in front of her. "Alert. Incoming communication, distress call received from the surface of Algid-17." She exchanged a glance with the Communications staff member beside her as she opened a hailing channel and responded in Vulcan. "This is the Federation starship Enterprise. Where are you?"

More static, then: "– degrees east on the surface of Algid-17, inside one of the remaining trade depots, Building Two. We are three Vulcans traveling on business; we were moving between planets to purchase supplies. Our shuttle developed engine trouble and we were forced to land here. We have been stranded on this planet for three Standard days. Our supplies are low. Please help us."

Nyota's slim fingers moved quickly over the controls as the man spoke; she opened the comm channel to the landing party and the bridge crew. "Maintain contact with me if you can; I'm notifying the Captain and First Officer."

Jim Kirk, though surprised, remained calm. "Greetings; this is Captain James Kirk of the starship Enterprise. Clarify, please. You're on planet with us, but some distance away?"

Nyota readied herself to translate the response, but the deep voice answered Kirk in fluent Standard. "Yes, honored Captain, we are on the same planet with you. Many of our ship's instruments were damaged in the crash. However, the auditory component of our communication system is partially functional, making it possible for us to hear that you were on the planet with us. Our previous distress calls went unanswered. Captain, please help us. We are peaceful and loyal to the Federation."

Spock switched on his comm. "This is First Officer Spock of the Enterprise. Federation members customarily provide assistance to people in distress. Identify yourselves."

The unseen man's voice had been steady, if somewhat tense earlier. Now Nyota detected an awestruck tremble.

"Honorable Opidsu (highly honored person/Lord) Spock, son of Sarek...greetings, sir. I am Donstelralth, furniture maker and craftsman on New Vulcan. I am accompanied by my lapan-zupsu (carpenter) apprentices Serranstivlen and Stelendos. "

Nyota dropped the stylus she used to note speech patterns and map the flow of the conversation on her padd. "Donstelralth? Captain, Mr. Spock, I met this man on New Vulcan. Osasu Donstelralth, this is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Enterprise."

And a satisfied customer, she chose not to add. During a recent visit to New Vulcan, she'd purchased a piece of specialized furniture from Donstelralth's furniture shop as a gift for Spock: a sturdy, well-upholstered couch with arms and sides one could adjust for comfortable reclining, or more energetic, intimate activities.

"Esteemed Okosu Uhura, bondmate of Opidsu Spock," Donstelralth replied with characteristic politeness. "This is a most unexpected, though welcome, meeting."

Through their mental bond, Nyota felt a slight reaction from Spock: the emotional equivalent of a raised eyebrow. His voice continued over the comm, his tone neutral.

"Indeed. Greetings, Osasu Donstelralth," he said in Vulcan, then switched to Standard. "You are now in communication with the bridge crew of the Enterprise, the Starfleet ship where I serve. The Enterprise will assist you. Prepare yourselves to beam aboard the ship. Are any transporter pads accessible to you?"

"Yes, though they appear long disused," Donstelralth replied in Standard as the entire bridge crew listened.

"No matter," Scotty reassured everyone. "Engineer Scott here. We'll beam you up. I've already retrieved and set the coordinates from a database of active and inactive trade routes. Grab yer belongings, gents, and step onto those pads. If you're ready, Captain, I'll bring all of ye up in two groups: landing party first, then our guests."

…

While the Captain and Spock talked with the stranded Vulcans and Chekov listened, Ensign Steap looked at the pile of discarded boxes next to him, taking note of one box with a splash of red paint on its side. Kneeling, he dug the point of his collection tool into the planet's cold, marshy top layer. From a distance, it appeared that he gathered another small soil sample. Only someone standing near him could see his fingers slip beneath the edge of the box, raising it high enough to pull out a slim metal object with multiple hinged, folding rods and smooth silver capsules.

Steap held the object along the line of his forearm as he stood and walked back to the collection box, deposited his soil samples beside the soil and water samples already gathered by Chekov, and pressed his forearm against the cover of the collection box, hiding the metal object below the lid's projecting outer rim. With a barely detectable click, magnets attached the object to the side of the box.

A voice sounded through the comm of Steap's helmet, startling him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
 _Vulcan glossary for this chapter:_

Okosu = honored lady, or madam. Honorific / form of formal address.

Opidsu = Lord.

Osasu = honored man, or gentleman/sir.

Osular = gentlemen/sirs, ladies, ladies & gentlemen; 'honored people'.

Sanoi = please.

Source: thanks to the Star Trek Online Geekipedia.

Our own galaxy includes a real oblong dwarf planet called Haumea. You may read more about Haumea and the researchers who discovered it on the Space dot com website.

Thanks for reading!

…


	2. Objects of Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan glossary for this chapter:
> 
> Adun'a=wife
> 
> Okosu = honored lady, or madam. Honorific / form of formal address.
> 
> Opidsu = Lord.
> 
> Osasu = honored man, or gentleman/sir.
> 
> Osular = gentlemen/sirs, ladies, ladies & gentlemen; 'honored people'.
> 
> Sanoi = please.
> 
> Sources: thanks to the Star Trek Online Geekipedia.
> 
> Swahili proverbs: Wikiquote.

"Extra Vulcans aboard? Well, ain't _this_ just fascinating. Let's all get ready for outbreaks of meditation, philosophical debates, chess-playing, and other wild dissipation." murmured McCoy.

He switched on the Captain's comm. "Attention, all crew. Chief Medical Officer McCoy speaking in Captain Kirk's stead. The landing party is safe, but the _Enterprise_ has responded to a distress call and we are welcoming three guests aboard, all citizens of New Vulcan and loyal to the Federation. Please make them welcome and respect their wish for privacy and quiet. McCoy out."

…

"Hey, is that lid warped?" Captain Kirk leaned over Steap and stretched out a hand to help.

"Uh, I just didn't have a good grasp on it." Steap pressed the collection box lid down with an exaggerated movement. The message from the Vulcans had provided a useful distraction, but he hadn't counted on Kirk resolving the situation so quickly and paying attention to him. "Seems to work now. Might be the cold."

"Right, we've been planetside long enough that the metal may have contracted." Jim gave him a friendly thump on the arm. "I hear that Alpha Cachette, our next stop, has a nice, warm beach. Hey, you used to surf, right? You could show a flatlander like me how to ride the waves. Ready to beam up?"

Steap nodded and gave the Captain the thumbs-up. Captain Kirk seemed a decent guy, trying to get to know as many of his crew aboard the huge ship as possible. Steap still felt some surprise at how quickly his own promotion had come; here he was in a landing party, working side by side with the Captain, the weird Vulcan First Officer, and that Russian kid.

Too bad his increased responsibilities, the assignment to better and more frequent missions, hadn't come a month earlier. Steap had become impatient. Kirk and that Vulcan simply took too long to realize how smart he was. He wasn't getting far enough, fast enough working for Starfleet. Steap was tired of waiting. He'd found a way to make Starfleet, and perhaps the Federation itself, work for him.

 

...

 

"Right, lads, prepare to beam up."

Scotty felt the familiar tension in his body, a sharp alertness that came upon him only in the transporter room. Every cell seemed to focus on the devices and crewmates around him: the transporter pads, the controls, the other engineers' voices. The beaming process began and Scotty began to ride it through.

As the shapes of men and objects formed on the transporter pads, Scotty held his breath and felt sweat trickle down his back. He glanced down at the controls. Everything looked normal, was normal. Almost.

"Miss Masters." His gaze was steady on the controls, but he saw her body turn attentively towards him in his peripheral vision. "A reading, if you will?"

The same information was visible both on the monitor and the eyepiece Scotty wore, but Charlene did not comment on this, and read the relevant data aloud in her low, calming voice.

"…transporter pad lock, normal. Mass, four disparate one to one human masses within specified range, normal. Solid processing rate, normal. No unusual data, sir."

 _Then why does the back of my neck prickle so?_

Rapidly swirling shapes of the landing party and their sample collection box formed on the transporter pads. Scotty stared at them intently.

He saw Kirk, already talking as he removed his helmet. Spock, expressionless as usual. Ensign Steap, lifting the collection box and declining a crew member's offer to help carry it down to Sciences. Steap nodded briefly in response to Chekov's excited commentary on the distress call, looking distracted.

Nobody was missing. Scotty exhaled, relieved, and Charlene looked at him with a questioning expression. Perhaps he needed more sleep. There were no tangible signs of beaming problems, yet...something unsettled him about this simple mission.

The men he saw were not alternate versions of themselves. Although he couldn't explain it scientifically, he _knew_ that the beings before him were the same people. Steap was himself, burdened with the self-involvement common to many young men. His titled chin and tense jaw were the same, not a sign of an angry, violent double.

Scotty shook his head. Maybe he should go on break, clear his mind.

"Well done, thank you, everyone. Our Vulcan guests now! Set coordinates. Beam up."

The swirling shapes on the pads grew solid. Pointed ears took shape. Four redshirts squared their shoulders, ready for action, but no Trojan Horse materialized aboard the E _nterprise_. Three Vulcans blinked back at the crew: a middle-aged Vulcan man with strong facial features and long, graying hair stood flanked by two tall, younger Vulcan men.

A hush fell over the transporter room as their First Officer stood before the Vulcans and raised his hand in the _t'aal_ , fingers spread. " _Osular_ (gentlemen), welcome to the _Enterprise_."

 

Spock had recognized the name immediately. _Donstelralth_. The man was a respected artisan and carpenter on New Vulcan. During their last December shore leave on Earth, Nyota surprised Spock with the gift of an intricately carved and lushly upholstered couch, which she commissioned at Donstelralth's shop during the couple's visit to New Vulcan a few months earlier. The couch had adjustable parts designed to support bodies in a range of positions and activities. Spock and Nyota greatly enjoyed experimenting with those positions.

 

His feeling of self-consciousness quickly faded. Why be ashamed? He and Nyota were legally and ritually bonded. Ownership of such furniture was not unknown among Vulcan bondmates. Despite Donstelralth's reputation for eccentricity, Spock had heard that the artisan took his role as an unofficial Vulcan cultural ambassador and historian seriously, and he would most likely respect the privacy of a bonded pair, even though both had human blood. Gossiping about his clients' private commissions and purchases would ruin both his business and his reputation.

 

Spock recalled how Nyota told him that Donstelralth wore his hair in a pre-Surakian style; he must have some influence on his apprentices, whose unusually long hair also deviated from the typical Vulcan short, bowl-cut style. The shorter one even wore his hair pulled back in narrow braids. Such individualism was unusual within New Vulcan's population, even among diasporic Vulcan migrants. Regardless of their appearance, Spock hoped that the youths followed IDIC and Vulcan manners and customs.

 

Donstelralth allowed relief to show on his face for a moment; then his deep voice sounded, speaking in clear, lightly accented Standard. "Greetings, Starfleet personnel – _Osasu_ Spock." He and the other Vulcans each raised a hand in the _taal._ "Our gratitude cannot be expressed simply through words. We deeply appreciate your kindness and effort in rescuing us."

In accented Standard, the apprentices echoed their mentor's words. "Thank you, _osular_ (honored people)."

Jim stepped forward, the shadows beneath his eyes eased by the curiosity and sociability in his expression. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen. Starfleet always strives to aid those in distress when possible."

"We were in great distress indeed, Captain Kirk. Peace and Long life to you. I am Donstelralth. These are two of my apprentices. The elder is Serranstivlen-" the taller, more muscular younger Vulcan inclined his head slightly. "The younger is Stelendos." The Vulcan with braided hair paused in his wide-eyed visual survey of the room and made a slight bow to Jim.

"Good to meet you all." Jim quickly introduced the men to the others in the room, then continued. "We're glad that you're safe. Lodging is available for each of you. Mr. Donstelralth, I'd like to meet with you after you settle in to discuss your situation. Our ship's current location makes it impossible to beam you directly back to New Vulcan; you'll need to travel with us for a few days to Starbase 23 to arrange transportation." Jim nodded at the apprentices.

 

"Thank you, Captain," said Serranstivlen, quickly halting his visual examination of the female engineer standing next to _Osasu_ Scott to make eye contact with Jim.

 

 _This one's gonna be either a nuisance or a buddy_ , Jim mused. "If you'll follow Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura, they will lead you to the guest quarters."

 

Nyota, hurrying in from the bridge, raised her hand in the _t'aal_ and greeted them in Vulcan. Stelendos flushed green, and his hand trembled as both apprentices returned the greeting. Donstelralth, unruffled, warmly greeted Nyota in return. Serranstivlen even smiled slightly.

 

Spock sternly raised an eyebrow at the young Vulcans. Without benefit of military experience, each young man abruptly stood up soldier-straight, averting their eyes from Nyota's hemline, and that of every other woman in the room.

Spock wanted to scold the apprentices. Long skirts were customary for Vulcan women. He remembered how long it had taken him to get used to Starfleet uniform miniskirts, particularly whenever Nyota sat in the front row of his classes at Starfleet Academy (her modest posture and placement of a jacket over her lap helped little, as he then imagined removing the jacket and kissing her thighs). However, socially appropriate behavior was taught to all Vulcans, and these apprentices knew that staring was never acceptable.

"Please follow me, gentlemen," Spock said. "While we walk to your guest quarters I will provide basic information about the _Enterpris_ e. I will also provide some useful advice on interactions with various cultures and genders on board, with some discussion of attire," he added, aiming a hard look at the apprentices, who flushed green.

As the Vulcan guests gathered tool kits and traveling bags from the transporter pad and prepared to follow, Spock exchanged a meaningful look with Jim. Jim doubted that the Vulcans posed an obvious danger to female crew, but perhaps Spock's caution was rooted in personal experience of being a young, hormonally agitated Vulcan. He nodded at Spock. _I get it_.

Asking his guests to walk beside and in front of him while Nyota and a red-shirted Security officer followed behind the group (he would _not_ tolerate further observation of Nyota's legs), Spock kept up a steady flow of commentary about the ship in Vulcan and Standard as the trio of Vulcan guests walked through the corridors.

A few crew members watched them curiously; it was rare to hear Mr. Spock talk so much. His behavior as host was hospitable and engaging, providing some clues as to what attracted the easygoing Lieutenant Uhura to her usually stern husband.

Always mindful of nonverbal communication, Nyota watched the apprentices while she translated Donstelralth's remarks and some of Spock's commentary for the redshirted Security officer beside her. Stelendos did not smile back at the crew, but he looked back at people in a way that acknowledged them and seemed empathetic. The taller apprentice, Serranstivlen, also looked at the crew around them. A hint of a smile hovered around Serranstivlen's eyes and mouth; crew members responded to his appeal, nodding greetings his way.

 _So. Serranstivlen is a ladies' man, or maybe even an everybody's man,_ Nyota mused _._

After they left the apprentices to rest in the guest quarters, Nyota and Spock offered to escort Donstelralth to Captain Kirk's ready room for the meeting the Captain had requested. As Donstelralth took a moment to put away his traveling bag and toolkit inside the room, Nyota turned to Spock.

"Don't worry about the apprentices," she said quietly. "The first time aboard a Starfleet ship is challenging for anyone. _Jogoo wa shamba haiwiki mjini_ (the cock from the country doesn't crow in the city)," she added in Swahili.

"They will be the subject of attention simply by being Vulcan and must behave appropriately. If either one stares at you again, I will challenge him to spar with me in the gym, without gloves," Spock muttered.

"You'll win, of course."

"I will also appear to be out of control. Perhaps I should debate him until he apologizes instead. It is something of a relief to be older and wiser," he sighed. " _Adun'a,_ will your schedule allow us to sleep at the same time tonight?"

The look she gave him made his heart thump in his side. "Oh, yes. I'm all yours, Mr. Spock."

Spock smiled. "As I am yours, my dear Lieutenant."

 

…

Chekov and Steap delivered the collection box to Sciences. Wonder entered his voice as Chekov described the planet's surface to the staff. Dreaming of his own future captaincy, he tried to pitch his voice lower and maintain a serious attitude, but his excitement showed in the animated gesturing of his hands as he described watching the sun moving across the sky during a four-hour-long day.

Steap detached the device from the side of the collection box and pushed it up beneath his sleeve. The Science lab personnel didn't look his way while listening to the Russian kid talk. Soon he needed to leave the lab, find an open vent in some unguarded corridor of the ship and slide the folded device inside. Usually Steap disliked being ignored but it no longer mattered if he was unappreciated. They'd soon learn the hard way that he deserved attention.

His smirk crumpled into a frown as a sharp pain stung his forearm. Steap surreptitiously pushed up his sleeve and saw two folding sections of the device releasing a fold of his skin; a flat metal disk was embedded in his skin, circled by blood. He couldn't pry the disk up with his fingernails.

Steap pushed down his sleeve. So what? The tagging didn't mean that he and his contacts couldn't trust each other; maybe they'd just forgotten to tell him about this part of their deal. Anyway, they were paying him. Their first installment had already paid for a few shopping expeditions during shore leave. He'd simply ask them to remove the device when he met up with them to end the deal and request proof of their promised final payment to the off-planet account he'd opened.

Steap smiled and nodded as though listening to Chekov joking that Algid-17 was nowhere near as cold as Russia.

* * *

 

Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to post reviews/comments if you feel like it.


	3. Not What It Seems

"Mr. Scott?" Charlene's voice was subdued as the Captain and the others left the transporter room. "That first beam-up – were there any anomalies?"

"All procedures appeared normal, Miss Masters." He turned to the other Engineering staff. "Thank you, everyone. No further beaming scheduled for this orbit. The _Enterprise_ is on her way again."

Engineering staff returned to their usual workstations and Security closed off access to the transporter room. Charlene walked silently beside Scotty until they reached his office door. She looked at him questioningly. Scotty sighed, nodded, and stepped aside to let her enter.

"As always, ye may speak freely while we're in here, Charlene." Scotty cleared machine parts and a padd from the seat of a chair.

…

 **_Captain Kirk's Ready Room_ **

Donstelralth's meeting with Captain Kirk, First Officer Spock, and Dr. McCoy was brief and direct. The Vulcan artisan and his apprentices were on a trade mission when they encountered misfortune. Frugal Donstelralth chose to deliver a large furniture order to a customer in the JoBakair planetary system by freight, concerned that beaming might damage both his budget and the carefully crafted pieces. Unfortunately, he contracted with an unfamiliar, cut-rate freighter company. After successfully delivering furniture and sculpture orders to planets in the JoBakair sector (the delivery on the water-rich world involved some sort of floating bed), the Vulcans rented a small shuttle to travel to Alpha Cachette to purchase wood. From Alpha Cachette, they intended to book space on a freighter headed to New Vulcan. An entirely normal journey, halted by mechanical problems.

"Donstelralth, the _Enterprise_ is already on schedule to visit Alpha Cachette; as you know, it's home to Starbase 231," Jim Kirk said. "You may travel with us for the next three Standard days and we'll drop you off in the main port town to resume your journey."

"Thank you, Captain. As stated previously, all three of us are exceptionally grateful to you and your crew. If I or my apprentices may assist in some way with work aboard the ship, please tell us."

"No, you're all our guests! Wouldn't dream of it. Not much wood aboard the _Enterprise_ for carpentry anyway. Just relax and enjoy yourselves."

The older Vulcan looked at Jim somewhat blankly. _Right_ , Jim thought. _Vulcans don't really do relaxation or 'enjoyment'_. He tried again, employing words he'd heard Spock use.

"You may find some...agreeable recreational activities on board. Lieutenant Sulu's created a shipboard garden. You can use the gym and game room. The observation deck is quiet if you need to get away. Both Doctors McCoy and M'Benga served as medical interns on Vulcan and are knowledgeable about Vulcan physiology. We also have movie nights, music nights, and parties, if that's your sort of thing."

Donstelralth only blinked, but he said politely, "How interesting. Thank you, Captain, Mr. Spock. If I may be excused...I would like some quiet time."

"Of course, Donstelralth. You've had a difficult experience. Feel free to contact me with any concerns."

Spock understood that Donstelralth wanted to meditate. "Please pursue solitude as you deem appropriate, Donstelralth."

The Vulcan excused himself and left.

"Speaking of parties," Jim said, "Three crewmates have already sent messages requesting permission for a party in the reception room tonight and also for the winter holidays. Tonight's party is in appreciation of the Vulcans' rescue and successful completion of what was otherwise routine mission."

Spock blinked. "The human desire to stage elaborate social gatherings for the slightest reason is quite predictable, though illogical."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Saving three of your stranded countrymen is 'slight'?"

"It is the humane and logical thing to do, and therefore unremarkable. It is my personal opinion that the crewmembers would have made the party request regardless of the rescue."

"They mean well. It's curiosity about socializing with the Vulcan apprentices that sparked this party idea, I suspect. And it won't be elaborate: colored lights, dancing, a controlled 'open' bar."

"Understood, Captain. You have already given permission," Spock said dryly, and rested his steepled fingers against his chin. "Captain, Algid-17 is in a sector frequently trafficked by trade convoys and Federation ships. Does it not seem unusual that the distress call sent by Donstelralth and his apprentices was not intercepted by any other ship?"

"Could have been a period of low traffic," Jim speculated. "Donstelralth said that the shuttle's instruments appeared not to function properly from the time of takeoff. If that shuttle wasn't well maintained, its distress beacon may also have malfunctioned."

"Spock, do you have any concerns about their presence aboard ship?" McCoy asked.

"No, Captain. As citizens of a Federation planet they have a right to be here, and I would never refuse to assist castaways without good reason. I admit that it is unusual to be one of four Vulcans aboard our ship. Aside from some typical immaturity displayed by the apprentices, it is unlikely that their behavior will create problems among the crew." _Or for myself_ , he thought.

"Immaturity?" McCoy inquired.

Jim wiggled his eyebrows. "No miniskirts on New Vulcan, remember? The way those young guys stared! They're gonna tell all their friends back home about the Starfleet uniforms."

Spock frowned. "Such behavior is unacceptable. I recommend that you order all female crew to wear the trouser version of the uniform until the Vulcans disembark on Starbase 231."

"Order? Naw." McCoy shook his head. "Let's make it optional, because it ain't the women's fault. Spock, have a gentleman's chat with those younguns and tell 'em to keep their eyes above a woman's shoulders. That's the only way to find out if she likes you back, anyway – they'll learn."

"You are correct, Doctor. Pardon me – it is both logical and obvious," Spock said. "Youth is no justification. I nonverbally indicated my displeasure with their attention to the uniform skirts –"

"Gave 'em the Spock Stare of Doom, eh?" McCoy chuckled.

Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy and continued. "I will speak to Donstelralth privately. However, this raises another question. Gentlemen, both of you are just as capable of communicating with the Vulcans as I am; each one speaks Standard and has had at least some exposure to non-Vulcans. No Vulcan translator is needed. Why do you not speak to them?"

"You share the culture and the language, and might communicate better. I won't issue a Captain's order forbidding crew from fraternizing with the Vulcans, or vice versa, unless something inappropriate happens. I know they all speak Standard, but I thought you'd all have similar ideas about…" Jim hesitated. "You're right. Your life is really different from theirs. No reason why we shouldn't all speak to each other. They're guests of Starfleet, and we should all get to know them while they're here."

"Just assumed that you'd have more in common, I guess. But I see your point," McCoy said thoughtfully. "I'll talk to 'em."

….

 **_The Enterprise_ **

**_Inside the private office of Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott_ **

_  
_

Charlene watched the Chief Engineer pacing across the small, somewhat cluttered office. "With all due respect, sir –"

Scotty paused in his pacing and stuck out his lip in a parody of a sulk. "We're _alone_ , 'Lene."

"Scotty," she sighed. "Look, you didn't give me a yes or no answer about the beaming process. Please tell me if something went wrong, so that I can work with everyone else to solve the problem."

"Science isn't involved with this, 'Lene. It's just a personal thing, a...feeling. I know it sounds odd. You understand; you've got an engineer's brain too. We work in tangibles: processes, methods, principles."

She leaned forward. "If you have any personal concerns I won't tell the others - unless it's a security risk, of course."

Scotty slumped into a chair beside her. "Our lads came back _lookin'_ safe. P'raps they had some disagreement while on planet, or they saw something unusual and didna report it – but that would violate procedure. No, something's amiss, and I canna say what it is. "

"From what I saw, they all behaved normally. Scotty...let's review the beaming data again, together, or you can assign it to me. Maybe we'll find the reason. Or if it really is personal, um, you could consult Dr. McCoy, or we could, um...we could...talk. About work things, or...other things, life in general."

Scotty's heart thumped faster, as though following the steady beat of a sappy love song for lovestruck teenagers. "A chat, yes. Go for a donner – a walk," he clarified. "Some quiet part of the ship, the observation deck or garden. I'm only taking m'self to the Doc as a last resort."

"Good." Charlene impulsively leaned forward and clasped both of his hands. "You're one of the best bosses I've ever had, and I don't want you to burn out. I'll go review that beaming data now." She let go of his hands – _drat! –_ and stood up, smoothing her short uniform skirt. Before Charlene reached the door, Scotty stepped in front of her, gently clasping her shoulders. "Thank ye, Lieutenant," he said quietly.

 

Dazed, she stared at him.

 

 _Damn it._ "Forgive me, Charlene. I -"

 

"Don't worry. It's all right," she said, touching his chin with her finger. His expression revealed something she was unprepared for. Charlene's eyes widened and she stepped back.

 

"Later," she whispered, and fled.

 

* * *

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	4. Bare Branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan glossary for this chapter:
> 
> Okosu = honored lady, or madam. Honorific / form of formal address.
> 
> Opidsu = Lord.
> 
> Osasu = honored man, or gentleman/sir.
> 
> Source: thanks to the Star Trek Online Geekipedia.
> 
> The term "bare branches" is borrowed from 21st century Chinese references to unmarried men.

Exercise or dancing usually helped Nyota handle stress. She'd felt that way most of her life. Schoolyard bullies and loneliness were forgotten when she raced down the track at Utendaji Junior Preparatory Academy, all of her adolescent energy focused on a goal. Dancing at town celebrations or weddings made her feel that she shared joy and humanity with others.

At Starfleet, where she'd made other lasting friendships, dancing might begin as a seductive call at the beginning of the evening, but it always changed to an expression of pleasure in movement, of being alive, comfortable, happy in her body and in her very self.

Spock made some remark about her fondness for dancing being a mere response to endorphins early in their relationship, while both were still pretending to each other that they were only friendly colleagues. Then she'd seen him watching her as she danced at a winter holiday party. He looked at her as though they were alone. Teasingly, she'd made eye contact and sketched a little circle with her hips; his mouth actually dropped open. It was only about a centimeter and a half but enough to confirm that more than endorphins were at involved. The mistletoe hung in a secluded alcove at the Starfleet Ballroom was artificial – real mistletoe was a protected species, now found only in nature preserves – but the soft, slow kiss they shared beneath it later that night was real, as was everything that followed.

The landing party and the Vulcans were safely aboard, but Nyota wanted to work off the residual stress of the day. 'Good stress', Sulu would call it, the energy needed to respond to and resolve a crisis. She changed into athletic gear, braided her hair so that it wouldn't catch on anything, and went to the ship's gym.

The large, brightly lit space was busy; people ran along the small elevated track, practiced martial arts on padded flooring. _Enterprise_ crew carefully avoided the appearance of staring at Serranstivlen and Stelendos, the Vulcan apprentices, as they self-consciously tried out the weight machine and exercise equipment. The taller of the two, Serranstivlen, wore a sleeveless shirt; his muscular arms flexed as he lifted weights of several hundred pounds, causing soft gasps of amazement to flutter around the room. He looked up and half-smiled, causing purring sounds of admiration. The other Vulcan, Stelendos, wore more modest short sleeves but this did little to hide the well-defined musculature of his arms and chest. He clasped a climbing rope and nimbly ascended to the ceiling using a hand over hand grip. Pausing at the top, he clasped the rope with his strong legs and turned himself upside down, then right side up. Men and women alike made admiring sounds.

A cluster of crew from Logistics giggled nearby. One woman grinned at Nyota.

"Lieutenant, just between us – are the Vulcans off-limits? Those guys look good, and I like having some new blood aboard."

"Ladies, you _know_ the answer to that. Intimate fraternization with guests isn't encouraged, but they're adults. I should warn you that Vulcan hearing is powerful, beyond the human range. Please be careful about what you say."

"Come on, we're off duty here," another woman said. "There's nothing wrong with our _Enterprise_ crew but mmm! Those shoulders! Can't blame us for noticing, right?"

Nyota persisted. "I know the Vulcans attract lots of attention, but please, let's not make them feel uncomfortable. Vulcan culture is socially conservative, quiet; staring isn't acceptable. Flirtation may be misinterpreted. Imagine this situation with the positions reversed. Do you want to be that creepy person who just doesn't know when to leave somebody alone?"

Serranstivlen stretched, looked towards the group of women, and ran a hand through his hair, then lowered himself to the floor and began a series of one-handed pushups.

"Lieutenant Uhura, those are _men_. Guests, not enemy combatants. Of legal age. Are you sure it isn't okay?"

"Cross-cultural training specifies the appropriate response to such situations…remember?" Nyota sighed. "The decision's up to you." She sighed and began to warm up, ready for a round on the exercise machines, then a sparring session.

…

After completing his landing party report, Spock set off to find Donstelralth. The older Vulcan man sat on a bench in the observation deck, a square of cloth spread out on the floor to catch the shavings from a small block of wood he shaped with a woodcarver's knife.

Unsurprised by Spock's proposed topic of conversation, Donstelralth motioned for Spock to sit beside him.

" _Osasu_ Spock, you may have noticed a great number of unattached men during your recent visit to New Vulcan. The more cynical among the Vulcan population have begun to refer to them as 'sei-fam gel', or 'bare branches'."

For a moment, Spock thought, Donstelralth's face held an exasperated expression he'd seen on his own father Sarek's face. "I have asked my apprentices to behave themselves when traveling away from New Vulcan, but they are _young_ men," Donstelralth continued. "Sometimes there is a lack of connection between what I _say_ and what they choose to _hear_."

"Understood." During his adolescence, Spock had occasionally 'listened' to Sarek with similar attention. "Have the local authorities addressed this problem? The presence of a surplus of men unable to find bondmates or to establish lasting, mutually beneficial social and familial ties could lead to social unrest."

Donstelralth replied, "There is much private discussion, but few are willing to publicly propose solutions. When questioned, many Vulcans might say that they prefer to maintain the old tradition of bonding on our new planet. Unbonded Vulcans are encouraged to make themselves more appealing to a potential bondmate. However, not all of these unbonded males have wealth, political connections, strong social ties, or other advantages. Diasporic Vulcan women are not always willing to leave their homes on other planets behind to begin new lives on New Vulcan. Some of the 'bare branches' express a certain...reluctance to bond with non-Vulcans."

Donstelralth averted his eyes, and then looked at Spock. "Personally, I disagree with them – I have enjoyed the companionship of non-Vulcans - but I know that mine is an unpopular opinion...I do not mean offense, _Opidsu_ Spock."

"No offense is taken." He'd dealt with such attitudes for his entire life, and it took more than this to surprise him. "The curiosity and ambition of these young Vulcans does not necessarily make them irresponsible, does it?" Spock asked rhetorically.

"Not to my knowledge, but I am surprised by what my apprentices do. Stelendos is quiet about his activities but during Earth visits he consistently visits the same types of restaurants and food markets, which suggests to me that he patronizes foreigner-managed businesses on New Vulcan. Some of these foods sold by Non-Vulcans may be contraband... _chocolate_ ," he said, lowering his voice as he pronounced the Standard word.

"Understood," Spock said as neutrally as possible. Forty-one days earlier, he and Nyota had programmed the 'do not disturb setting' on the door to his quarters, where they shared two chocolates: one milky piece, one dark. Behind closed doors, Spock felt safe experiencing the chocolate's psychoactive and aphrodisiac effects on Vulcan physiology. At the time, Nyota was premenstrual and quickly aroused, craving both chocolate and Spock. Energetic, unclothed, and mutually satisfying activities followed their consumption of the hard-to-obtain treats. Both smiled a lot that night.

Spock calculated the likely results of combining chocolate and two young, single, lonely Vulcans and frowned. He must contact the ship's catering services to ensure that all chocolate settings were removed from the ship's replicators for the duration of the Vulcans' visit. In addition, he would ask Mr. Scott to suspend his usual mysterious deliveries of the sweet, dangerous stuff, which the Chief Engineer obtained through his shadowy interplanetary trade connections.

Donstelrath looked relieved to have a sympathetic ear. " _O_ _pidsu_ Spock, I expected that you would understand their situation. A desire to learn about off-planet life is natural. I have reason to believe that my apprentices are even reading books from Earth, books by and about humans... _fiction_ , not simply useful histories. I believe in intellectual freedom, but I am concerned for the young men who work with me. Many on New Vulcan dislike change. My apprentices have not yet established themselves professionally. A reputation for un-Vulcan behavior will make it difficult for them to find work in some Vulcan businesses; they may also be socially ostracized."

Spock looked at Donstelralth's long hair.

"Yes, I know," Donstelralth sighed. "As someone with his own questionable reputation, I understand. If my skills in carpentry and artwork were not appreciated, I would not have my own shop on New Vulcan. Many call me a rebellious eccentric because of my interest in Pre-Surakian Vulcan culture – thus, my hair. I believe that a more open interpretation and application of IDIC will allow Vulcans to better adjust to our new life."

He looked out at the passing stars and spoke carefully. "If you do not find it offensive, _Opidsu_ Spock, I should mention...several of my apprentices on New Vulcan have shown a... _personal_ interest in observing and interacting with female and male off-worlders. Before _Osasu_ Scott beamed us aboard, I warned my apprentices to behave carefully with people aboard the _Enterprise_. The _Enterprise_ is not only the crew's home, it is their workplace. "

Spock's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Sir, I hope that you will warn the young Vulcans in turn that they, _themselves_ may be the object of inappropriate advances made by certain members of Starfleet. It is of course unacceptable to sexually proposition guests of Starfleet, but not everyone follows the rules."

Donstelralth blinked. "Ah...yes. During my youth I myself was often the object of prurient curiosity when working and traveling on colony planets." He brushed away loose shavings from the piece of wood. " Surak reminds us that we cannot control the actions of others. However, I will do my best to assure that no problems occur during our brief residence aboard the _Enterprise."_

…

"I hate sparring with chicks," sneered Steap.

Other people in the gym paused in their combat and exercise, staring.

Nyota's shoulders stiffened. She didn't know Steap well, but his response to her invitation to join her and others in combat practice startled her. He could have just said no.

"Really?" Suddenly she felt angry. "Someday a woman may surprise you with an attack during an away mission. A woman brought you into this world, and a woman can take you out of it."

"Is that a threat, Uhura?" He crossed his arms defiantly. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt despite the warmth of the busy gym.

"Of course not, it's sarcasm. What's your problem? This is a routine exercise. A person would think you'd never studied Gender Relations or hand-to-hand combat at Starfleet Academy. Don't spar with me if you don't want to, but ditch the 'chicks' crap."

Serranstivlen's deep voice broke the tense silence. " _Okosu_ Uhura, may we assist you?" The apprentices had moved quietly across the room to stand next to Nyota. Stelendos, who was a bit shorter than Steap but lithe and strong, stepped in front of Steap and gave him a measuring look. Serranstivlen took a protective half-step in front of Nyota.

Steap smirked, but spoke no more as he turned and left.

Uneasy, Nyota turned to the apprentices. "Thank you both," she said in Vulcan.

"I do not understand," Stelendos said. "You are officer, but he speaks to you in this way?"

"Anyone else who spoke that way would have been joking, even though I dislike such jokes…but we are not friends." Nyota realized that her hands were clenched into fists, and she relaxed them. "I do not understand either, but I appreciate your willingness to help me."

Nyota saw that Chekov and Ensign Miranda, a woman from engineering, had also crossed the room to stand close to her in a show of support.

"Lieutenant, zat was wery unprofessional of him," Chekov said quietly. "I understand that all genders are equal here, but I must say he did not behave like a gentleman. I am younger than he is and I do not speak of women zat way."

"Gender aside," Miranda said, "that's no way to address an officer. Has he ever spoken this way to you before?"

"No, never. We barely know each other." Nyota lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "We've worked on teams a few times, and he never did anything like this. I'll speak to him later. If here's a problem, I'll take it to Command. Thanks for the backup." She smiled at them, a little tightly; then she leaned down, picked up a weighted ball, and took several steps back. "Let's move on. Who wants to partner up? "

* * *

 

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	5. Keeping Up with What's Down There

**_Sickbay, the_ Enterprise**

 **_Inside Dr. McCoy's Office_ **

…

" _Uf-wehk?_ (How many?)" gasped an awestruck Stelendos. "The human clitoris has _eight thousand_ nerve endings? Very remarkable, Dr. McCoy! Humans are more complex than I knew."

 _Lord have mercy. I love my job, but sometimes I think Starfleet doesn't pay me enough._ Dr. Leonard McCoy did his best to maintain a neutral facial expression as he looked at the two young Vulcan men who sat on the other side of his desk.

"Let's back this up, fellas. I brought y'all here to explain that while you're more than welcome to enjoy socializing with the crew, you need to be careful about intimate physical interactions. That's for your benefit _and_ theirs. I understood that y'all had a few questions about human sexuality, but this is information, not instructions."

"Perhaps I make question more clear, Dr. McCoy," Stelendos said. "Instructions are useful to us. Computers give us information on New Vulcan. Elders do teach us about Vulcan sexuality, but we do not have much practical experience with non-Vulcan women -"

"Allow me to provide a correction," Serranstivlen interrupted. McCoy thought that he used his greater height to his advantage, and he was possessed of what humans would call charm and swagger. "Our sexual experience with various beings differs greatly. I, for example, have engaged in sexual relations with -"

"Excuse me, Serranstivlen, I was just thinking," Leonard interrupted, noticing Stelendos' expression. "Pull your chairs over here by the computer. Some things are easier with visuals."

"Dr. McCoy, I have already seen images of unclothed human women," Serranstivlen said.

"This ain't porn, guys. These are three-dimensional medical models of the vulva. I think y'all need a quick and dirty tour. Don't take that literally, it's a colloquial expression," he added.

Dr. McCoy discussed the vulva, the labia majora and labia minora and their wealth of sensory nerve endings. "I should also pass along some advice I heard recently. Not all human women remove their pubic hair, and you can pull very gently on that hair to create a pleasant sensation. You oughta ask if she likes it, of course. If not, try something she _does_ like – that goes for every single thang you do together, really."

"Thank you for the advice, Doctor. I am also curious about the proper stimulation of the clitoris," Serranstivlen said earnestly. "Although I have successfully stimulated several, I intend to improve my technique and expand upon my knowledge of it."

Stelendos agreed, "I would also like to study the clitoris and apply my learning. Perhaps human females would welcome assistance with the care and exercise of the clitoris."

"Uh, the clitoris doesn't exactly need what you'd call exercise, although care and attention are helpful – anyway, let's move on." _That's it; I'm asking Starfleet for a raise_. McCoy tried not to think too hard about the Saurian brandy stashed in his quarters, and continued.

"Scientists have studied the clitoris for centuries, and they're still learning new things about its role in female sexual response." The doctor tapped in a command and the image changed. "There's so much more to it than the little external nub – it's got a structure behind it that makes it powerful and kinda mysterious."

After describing clitoral structure and function, Leonard crossed his arms and looked at the apprentices. "You do know what the most important sexual organ is - right, guys?"

"Her vulva as a collective unit?" wondered Stelendos.

"Her clitoris?" asked Serranstivlen.

"Her mind." Leonard tapped his forehead for emphasis. "Be one-hundred-percent certain that she wants you before you touch any part of her or no sex should happen. That's the rule I tell all the Starfleet crew, and it's true whether you've known each other twenty minutes or twenty years. Consent first. Then you can have some fun, tease her a lil' bit, ask her how she wants to be touched, make each other happy. Starfleet crew aren't encouraged to fraternize with shipboard guests in intimate ways, but I can't stop you."

Both Vulcans listened intently as Leonard discussed:

Foreplay and arousal, and major nerve pathways – "Don't forget the rest of her body. Remember, you can always ask her as you go along."

Variations in the shapes of vaginas – "Shape, depth and size varies, so what feels good to one woman may not be good for another; ask."

Appearance – "Get down there and look. You ain't never gonna see the same one on different women, and there's no 'right' way for 'em to look on a healthy woman. Learn to enjoy the differences if you plan to go into the vagina business – that's another figure of speech, sorry. Ask her if she's okay with it first."

Lubrication, manual and oral stimulation – "Natural lubrication is affected by hormonal cycles, health, and other factors. Keep your fingernails short and clean. Oral stimulation involves lots of different things – pressure, timing, movement. You'll figure it out if she makes noises, or just ask if she likes what yer doin'."

Penile penetration – "Yes, we know," the Vulcans said. "Ask."

And orgasm. "You ain't got to ask her about _that_. She'll want it."

"… and that's about it," McCoy finished. "I'm gonna assume you've both got male humanoid genitalia figured out already, since each one of you owns a set. Any questions on that? No?"

"No, I am familiar enough with my own. Thank you very much, Doctor," Serranstivlen said sincerely.

"Thank you, _Osavens_ _u_ (honored teacher) Dr. McCoy. I have learned much in a short time." Stelendos grinned. "I am eager to apply this lesson."

"Slow down; don't go trying to seduce the crew just so's you can get some practice in. Cain't y'all just wait until you return to New Vulcan?"

"Sometimes it is difficult to find someone unbonded and willing on New Vulcan," Serranstivlen said wistfully.

"We traveled to Earth with Donstelralth last year. Few humans avoided social activity with us after we told them that we work as apprentices to a furniture maker," Stelendos said. "Most continued to interact with us."

"Perhaps it will be the same on the _Enterprise_ ," added Serranstivlen. "For example, _Okosu_ Uhura speaks to us with respect and kindness, although she has a powerful bondmate. Even _Opidsu_ Spock addressed me with the equivalent of 'Mister'. Perhaps his human blood makes him behave differently? A human bondmate would not be so bad if we lived beside each other, instead of one high and one low."

"I think I understand. It's…difficult, your situation on New Vulcan." Leonard was reluctant to discuss Vulcan class differences. "Try not to get too frustrated, I can't forbid your personal interactions with our crew, but just be considerate."

…

Steap sent the message confirming the next scheduled stop of the _Enterprise_ and his actions of that day. He didn't mention his interaction with Uhura, because he wasn't supposed to draw attention to himself, but even now the memory made him laugh. Everybody on this ship thought they knew everything, could do anything, or they were always asking questions and looking for something. Searching, searching, searching, the whole damned five-year mission. He'd changed his mind about Starfleet only a month into his contract. The alien he'd met in a pub on shore leave introduced him to some even more shady types. They had money. He had access.

The disk in his forearm didn't hurt, but it was inconvenient to wear long sleeves everywhere. He hoped to receive a reply from his contacts quickly. The sooner he got his payment and they removed the disk, the sooner he could flee the _Enterprise_.

…

Nyota left the gym long after the Vulcans responded to a summons from Dr. McCoy, and Chekov and Miranda were too tired to keep sparring. Her physical tension had finally eased, but some disquiet about the confrontation lingered. Should she tell Spock about Ensign Steap's trash-talking? Maybe it was an aberration, the man's own release of tension following a planetary mission. She'd let it go this time.

She showered and changed, then logged in remotely to the computer in her quarters, a space adapted to share an adjoining wall with Spock's larger quarters. She rarely locked the door leading to Spock's side, though she sometimes closed it to work at her desk or take a nap on the narrow bunk she kept there. Although he verbally expressed support for her need for privacy, Nyota knew that Spock did not really like knowing that she might lock herself away from him; in consideration of his feelings she normally left the door partially open.

Nyota quickly reviewed the daily reports from Communications. A small, peculiar security breach appeared; the food services and replicator menu adjustments were available in shared Communications server space, meaning that anyone in the Communications Division could read the information. Not that anyone would want to, but the information was supposed to be accessible only to certain staff. Nyota contacted Tech about the problem. Finding nothing else unusual other than an announcement of an evening party celebrating the landing party's safe return, she logged out and headed for the cafeteria.

A mid-afternoon coffee break with some of her crewmates usually helped to ease the stress of a long, tense day. Nyota sought to erase thoughts of Steap's rudeness with friendly companions. She stirred cinnamon-flavored sweetener into her cup of brackish, replicated coffee.

Spock caught the wafting cinnamon scent and lifted his left eyebrow fraction of a centimeter.

 _Ashayam, you know very well that large amounts of cinnamon will cause me to experience a psychoactive and sexual response. Are you amusing yourself at my expense?_

 _Sweetheart,_ you _know that I like cinnamon…and yes, I'm reminding you that we have the same evening schedule tonight. To clarify, we have_ no _schedule…free time. Private time._

Nyota dimmed the bond, and then took an experimental sip.

" _Ecch!_ Even sugary chemicals don't improve that stuff."

"May I recommend that you switch to tea?" asked Spock. "It is unusual for you to consume as much coffee as you have during the past two weeks."

"You know how much I like tea...but when I'm under pressure, caffeine or even the smell of freshly brewed coffee motivates me."

Charlene gently elbowed Nyota. "Maybe you could switch to real coffee beans. If you like, I'll ask Scotty, er, Mr. Scott, if he'll trade for some of it."

Hearing Charlene speak his name, Scotty turned his attention from a sports conversation between Chekov and Sulu to the two women. "So, I've got something you want, ladies? Let's hear it, I'm a soft touch. I may trade, sell, or give it away, depends upon what yer askin'."

A change in posture, the way Scotty leaned forward, the way Charlene rested her hand atop the table near Scotty's, her palm open...Nyota realized that no translation was required.

"May I remind you, Mr. Scott, that Starfleet regulations apply certain conditions to the private exchange of goods aboard ship -" Spock paused as Scotty sighed deeply. "Understood. You do remember."

"Charlene said that you might happen to have some nice coffee beans," Nyota said.

"Did she, now? How well she does know me." Scotty and Charlene smiled at each other for a quick, mutually appreciative moment before he returned his attention to Nyota. "Lieutenant Uhura, I would be delighted to part with a wee bit of coffee on your behalf. I hear they grow it on the planet housing Starbase 231; I plan to stock up and be well fortified for sleepy mornings and late nights."

Again, a sidelong, almost dreamy look at Charlene. Nyota wondered if she should have a private word with her later...but what did she think she was protecting Charlene from? This was none of her business. Scotty was a good-hearted man; maybe they would find some happiness and comfort together, for at least a while.

…

 

Spock did not completely agree that the completion of a routine planetary survey, even one involving a rescue of stranded Vulcans, justified a party; this did not mean that he intended to miss it. Sociable crew members frequently approached Captain Kirk and First Officer Spock requesting permission to organize parties for such random reasons as holidays on their home planets, the observation of benign astronomical phenomena, birthdays of celebrated persons, or simply to mark the passing of Friday to Saturday during the artificial week of shipboard time. Though illogical, such parties improved morale. Most party requests were approved, often by Spock himself, if Jim were preoccupied with Federation business.

The crew disagreed that parties were illogical – including his bondmate, who dropped her towel, revealed a lovely nude body lightly scented with a cinnamon-tinged soap and lotion, and prepared to don the lacy underwear and the colorful dress spread out on the bed. Nyota, who had earlier seemed distressed by something she refused to discuss, expressed such happiness upon learning that dancing would be involved that Spock ceased commenting on the questionable motives for the party.

Though he rarely said so, Spock looked forward to dancing at parties. Perhaps Sulu and Ensign Jones, two among the roster of music selectors for the evening, would remember the requests he'd placed earlier and play his favorite line dances, complete with logical sung and chanted directions. Slow dancing with Nyota also pleased him; he knew that his bondmate valued the rare opportunities to be affectionate with him in public settings.

Nyota looked over her shoulder at him. "Sweetheart, would you please fasten my dress?"

Spock's warm fingers searched the filmy, smooth fabric, found an absurdly small button and pulled a fabric loop over it. The dress left a small section of Nyota's back exposed. Spock slid his fingers into the opening, stroking the smooth, deliciously scented skin of her back.

"You anticipate vigorous dancing tonight, _ashayam_? This dress is ventilated."

"Yes, I'm going to put in good floor time tonight, enough to get hot. I hope you'll slow dance with me." Spock leaned down and licked the exposed skin of her back. "Mmm. So is that a yes, Mister?"

His fingers slid below the neckline of the dress and over the top of her breast. "Yes. I will slow dance with you; both at the party," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to her neck, "and here in our quarters afterward." Spock turned her to face him and embraced her. "Algid-17 was too cold to be agreeable. I request your assistance in completely thawing me later tonight."

Nyota smiled at him. "Ooh, I'd love to help thaw you out, Mr. Spock. Tell me exactly what I can do to warm you up."

"I shall need to be kissed," he murmured, "and held. Bites to various parts of my body will affect my circulation." One big hand covered the small of her back and pressed her closer to him. "If you will admit me to the warmest, softest place of all, both of us will be satisfied. To be certain, I will work _hard_ to ensure that both of us enjoy the process...even if it takes most of the night."

"Um, we could be late to this party, you know," Nyota said, reaching back toward the fastening of her dress.

"We would very likely miss the majority of the social interaction if we did," Spock replied, gently moving her fingers away from the button. "I prefer to engage in more than a 'quickie' tonight, if you are amenable." He gazed down at her with a warm half-smile on his face. "Appropriate descriptors for what I want to do with you tonight may be expressed as single words. Slow. Close. Hot. Deep." He stroked the side of her face. "Does this appeal to you?"

"How can I resist a promise like that? All right, my love, I'll wait."

...

The Yeoman – that was the Standard word for her title, although the fit of her uniform made it very clear she was female – smiled up at the tall Vulcans. Chekov issued one invitation verbally, while the young blond woman's eyes made Serranstivlen think she invited him to something else. Serranstivlen gave her a lazy, alluring half-smile.

"Come wiv us to the party. You will meet and talk to many people on crew, and zere is food and drink also." Chekov searched the impassive faces of the Vulcans, seeking some reaction. "Also zere is music. Sometimes we dance."

Both Vulcans stood up a bit straighter.

"Dancing? Interesting."

"Eh...you like dancing?" Chekov asked, baffled.

One corner of Serranstivlen's mouth turned upward. "Dancing is a useful form of cross-cultural education. Opportunities to dance on New Vulcan are rare, though they exist, and we usually dance alone instead of participating in partner dances with...touching," he said, casting a pointed look at the Yeoman. He uncrossed his bare, muscular arms, somehow flexing his biceps while he did it. Both the Yeoman's and Chekov's eyes widened.

Chekov realized that Vulcans could indeed flirt, but thought it unwise to comment.

"So...Vulcans can dance," he faltered.

Serranstivlen smiled with both sides of his mouth then. "Yes. A little."

* * *

Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:

 _Ashayam=_ beloved.

Thanks for taking time to read. Please consider posting a review or comment!


	6. Askew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan vocabulary for this chapter:
> 
> Tal-kam= dear one.
> 
> T'hyla= lover or companion/friend.

Scotty had been dancing continuously for nearly thirty standard minutes of Earth time. The technologically advanced fabric of his shirt was giving in to sweat and sticking to his back. He couldn't help himself; Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Jones, or Jonesy, played one irresistible song after another. Compelling, sinuous bass lines, perfectly accented treble flourishes, songs with voices and without, shuffling rhythms – he was, temporarily, in heaven.

The familiar opening notes of an old line dance song poured from the speakers set into the walls of the room. Nyota saw Spock's mouth turn upward in a half-smile; he'd requested one of his favorites again. She glanced over at the DJ stand; Jonesy winked at her and saluted. No _Enterprise_ crew member would dare forget a musical request from Spock. His willingness to indulge in such a profoundly human pastime as line dancing should have made him less intimidating, but somehow things didn't quite work out that way. Oh, well. You couldn't be accepted by everyone, everywhere.

With a bounce in her own footsteps, Nyota followed Spock onto the dance floor. Other crewmembers were already stepping and moving their hips and shaking their shoulders in a wobbling motion. Some bounced a little. Some grooved. Some moved rhythmically, smoothly and sensually, like Spock beside her and the two tall men in front of her…

 

 _Serranstivlen! Stelendos!_ Nyota's mouth dropped open in surprise; then she closed it and kept time with the pace of the dance. Other crewmembers stared openly from the edge of the dance floor.

 

The Vulcan men followed the song too well to be dancing it for the first time. Nyota wondered exactly what their personal activities on New Vulcan involved. _During my next visit to New Vulcan, I'm going to find out where these guys go after work. Obviously, New Vulcan's citizenry has a life beyond Parliament and meditation chambers._

 _  
_

_…back it up…_

 _  
_

Serranstivlen's well-formed backside backed up and swiveled; his bare arms gleamed under the colored lights.

 

 _Jump forward…_

 _Jump back…_

 _Step right…_

 _  
_

Stelendos put more sway into his broad shoulders than his hips, but it made his movements no less interesting to watch.

 _Step left…_

 _And right..._

 _  
_

The pattern of the dance called for the dancers to turn; Spock playfully bumped her hip with his, and Nyota looked up at him. He cut his eyes towards the young Vulcans, raised an eyebrow, and shrugged, making her giggle.

 _And turn, two, three four, five six, seven eight._

 _  
_

Other unexpected dancers moved across the floor with them. Leaning and wobbling right: Drs. McCoy and M'Benga. Now leaning and wobbling left on behalf of the Engineering and Sciences Division: Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, Lieutenant Charlene Masters. Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Jonesy had stepped away from the DJ stand to dance.

A young blond woman, lucky enough to find herself standing next to Serranstivlen when the song began, aimed flirtatious glances at him and smiled as she followed the steps. Serranstivlen, being Vulcan, didn't smile back at her but appeared to return her interest. Would Donstelralth be angry, Nyota wondered? To her knowledge, neither of the apprentices violated cultural codes by dancing. Perhaps moving hips and shoulders involved too much personal expression, if not outright emotion? She would ask Spock later tonight for his opinion. All _E_ _nterprise_ crew were aware of the Captain's implied warning to keep their hands off their Vulcan guests; however, Nyota suspected that at several people were tempted to violate Kirk's directive.

The young Vulcans appeared to find the dancing agreeable, though it was difficult to say that they openly enjoyed themselves. Okay, maybe not so difficult. Serranstivlen's hips added the flourish of an extra bump and Stelendos' hands rose in the air in his own variation on the dance.

The young Vulcans were attractive, but as the dancers turned again, Nyota admired her bondmate. Spock's sleek, dark head, his trim, muscled body, the way he moved his hips, the elegant looseness and smoothness of his movements...she didn't love him for his appearance, but she certainly appreciated it. A wave of sensual desire moved through her and across the mental bond, where it met and blended with an equally heated flow of desire from her Vulcan mate. Spock gave her a knowing look as they turned again in the pattern of the dance, and his appreciative gaze swept up and down her body. He spoke to her through their bond.

 _Shall we leave this party early, tal-kam?_

 _Maybe, big man. Have you got any more requests lined up?_

 _Indeed, I do have 'more requests' tonight, but not for songs, and only you can fulfill them._

A slow song began: a half-spoken, half-sung duet. People paired off to sway and cuddle in the dimly lit room. Someone turned on a blue light to heighten the romantic mood. Scotty looked down at his sodden clothing, then smiled ruefully at Charlene.

"Sorry, 'Lene. I'm afraid I wouldn't be nice to hold onto in this state…unless ye have a towel handy?"

"Next time, Scotty," she chuckled, and moved out onto the floor with Larry Riddle from Engineering. Scotty watched her go. Oh well, he had all night, so he'd try again. He'd been trying to work up the courage to suggest a slow dance. Too much time aboard a Starship dulled one's dating skills. Charlene had danced by herself to faster music that required no partners, sometimes moving close enough for him to watch her. He'd thought she wanted to dance by herself to release the tensions of the day as he had, but maybe he was wrong. She'd met his gaze several times and smiled back.

Hope was such a scary thing sometimes.

Sulu and Jonesy gathered their tech items from the DJ station, chatting about the apparent success of their temporary reign as musical navigators.

"It's about time you two took a break," Scotty said. "Ye see I'm pure dead soaked! Great songs, thanks! Who's up next?"

"Umm…Neville Morgan, I think," Sulu replied. "You know him – guy from Sciences?"

Scotty let out a mock groan. "I'll be on the floor all night at this rate; he's got as fine a musical taste as you two do. I'd better go change me shirt before I start drippin' on folk."

Jonesy smiled as she watched Scotty leave. "That's high praise – I share a DJ stint and not only is the music good enough to make the head of Engineering dance, but he has to change clothes! Hey, I even saw you and Mr. Spock on the floor," she giggled to her colleague Nyota Uhura.

"We had a good time. Thanks, both of you," Nyota said. "Jonesy, you know that nothing can keep me away from a good stress releasing dance party."

A woman approached and winked at Sulu. He nodded at Nyota and Jonesy and joined the woman in a slow dance.

"Oh, Hikaru is so smooth," Nyota said. "As for Spock… he never met a line dance he didn't like. He never forgets the steps, of course, and he knows so many routines – some of them are _decades_ old, it's amazing." Like so many things, Spock approached learning dancing as a research project, albeit a particularly enjoyable one.

"Yeah, he gave me some challenging requests. _Miss Jones, do you have convenient access to audio recordings of the following songs, and if so, may I request that you play them…_? Fortunately, I did have the files. He was nice about it, but I'd quake in my boots if I had to tell the First Officer of the _Enterprise_ that I didn't have his favorites in my collection," Jonesy said wryly. "It's good to see people enjoying themselves. It's been a demanding month for the crew. You notice that the Captain isn't here."

"He's been working very hard lately," Nyota said. Jonesy was right. It was strange, not seeing Jim anywhere near scantily clad women and the relaxed party atmosphere.

…

Spock gazed down at Nyota while they moved to the slow, romantic music. The light fabric of the dress she wore revealed little to the eye; its hem was longer than her uniform skirt and it had short sleeves. However, he felt her warmth and the curve of her waist through the dress and if they had been alone his fingers would have moved lower. He held her carefully away from his body in the most polite and decorous partner position he could manage. Heat made the collar of his shirt feel too heavy. She rested one hand on his shoulder and each time her fingertips brushed the skin of his neck, he caught fragments of her fantasies. He knew that she thought of undressing him, trapping his arms behind him with the long sleeves of his shirt. Cool, slender fingers teased his nipples, then slid over the tapered V-shape of hair low on his flat belly and into the open waistband of his trousers. Spock drew in a deep breath.

" _T'hyla,_ I can wait no longer," he murmured. She gazed up at him with an innocent expression.

"You wanted something, Commander?"

A faster song began; Nyota and Spock looked at each other. In silent agreement, they left the dance floor. Her hips swayed slightly. Perhaps he would allow her to take the lead tonight; perhaps he would undress her instead, or insist that they each left some article of clothing on.

…

Scotty peeled off his damp clothes, quickly refreshed himself in the sonic cleansing unit, redressed himself in civilian gear, and headed back to the party. Whistling to the distant melody of a tune from Ensign Neville Morgan's set, he half-walked, half-danced through the empty corridor to leading to the large reception room that had been taken over for the evening's party.

The small cluster of flashing lights made him blink; he flattened himself against the wall and watched as it moved towards a vent, then disappeared. Barely three seconds elapsed before his hand found the emergency comm panel set into the wall.

"This is Chief Engineer Scott. Alert - possible intruder aboard the ship. It takes the form of a cluster of colored lights, has moved into ventilation system through the wall in ship quadrant RR-4. All gatherings disperse immediately."

From the reception room, Scotty heard another measure of steady rhythm and vocals - " _Carry go bring come—"_ and then a low whoosh as the cluster of colored lights, now compressed into a flat shape, flew out of the vent. Reshaping itself – it was now obvious that the intruder was indeed solid and had a changeable form – the cluster hovered, aimed itself at Scotty, and moved forward. He ducked, but it flew low enough to scrape his forehead.

Charlene ran from the reception room as soon as she heard Scotty issue the intrusion alert; she intended to run to Engineering and join the effort to preserve the ship's operating systems.

She gasped when she saw the Chief Engineer struck by a small, flying bundle of flashing lights. As it flew towards her head, Charlene raised her tote bag and blocked the flying object's path. It connected with a solid thump, knocking the bag and the padd it contained out of Charlene's hands. The mysterious object and the padd crashed to the floor and burst into flames.

* * *

 

Thank you for reading! Please consider taking a moment to post a review or comment. There will be a delay of a few days between this chapter and the concluding chapters, but they're on the way.


	7. In Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter: length (6,500+ words). Chapter rewritten for logistical/characterization reasons.

"Fire!" Scotty roared. Simultaneously, he and Charlene reached for an emergency cabinet containing extinguisher tanks. The open flames were close enough to a sensor to start the automatic fire system. Two ceiling panels slid open and the emergency system dumped fire retardant powder onto the burning remains of the flying object and Charlene's damaged padd. Just in time, Scotty pushed Charlene behind him; light blue powder dusted him from shoulder to toe.

"Well, that's twice I'll change clothes tonight. I hope ye backed up all your data on that padd, Charlene."

"Always, in multiple locations," she replied. "Did any of that chemical get into your wound? Let me see it – better get you to Sickbay." Her long fingers moved carefully around the bleeding scratch as she tried to brush the powder away. "It isn't deep, but who knows what was on that object – it might infect you."

"Nay, lass, I'll go tae Engineering first," Scotty protested as other crew, responding quickly to the danger of fire aboard a ship, ran through the corridors.

"At least let me rinse it off!" Charlene grabbed a bottle of sterile water and First Aid kit from the emergency cabinet.

"Why are you worried about me? Did it hurt you?" Scotty realized that his hands had somehow clasped Charlene's waist. He reluctantly let go when Spock, Nyota, Sulu, and other crew ran into the corridor, halting at the sight of the burnt mess on the floor.

"Mr. Scott, is this the object of the alert?"

"Aye, Mr. Spock. It flew overhead, into a vent, back out of the vent, changed shape, flew dead at me and cut me on the head. Lieutenant Masters here held up her bag to stop it. It crashed and caught fire. There should be enough of the object left to analyze."

"Understood. Mister Scott, Miss Masters, thank you both for your actions in defense of the ship. Please report to Sickbay immediately in case of alien infection, and then to Engineering as soon as you have medical clearance."

Scotty glanced at Charlene, who nodded back without giving him an _I told you so_ look in return. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and then hurried off to Engineering.

Security crew arrived with a tricorder and hazmat gear; Spock used the tricorder to scan the object, simultaneously transmitting the data it gathered to Sciences and Security. He pulled on protective gloves and put the remains of the object into a bag.

The light mental fog created by her slow dance with Spock cleared rapidly when Nyota heard the alert. As soon as she saw that Scotty had only a minor injury – he strode off to Sickbay, his face grim – she sprinted for the bridge, where she was soon joined by two of her Communications staff. Using the tricorder data, they quickly compiled a preliminary report with images of the burned object and Nyota transmitted it to the appropriate division of Starfleet via a secure channel.

Jim Kirk's voice, deep and calm, sounded over the ship's comm, directing crew to their stations and issuing instructions to people on the bridge. The steady flow of his words imparted a sense of strength and readiness to meet any enemy. Nyota hadn't seen the Captain at the party; he'd been moody the last couple of days. She didn't know if he'd spent the last two hours sleeping or brooding alone in his quarters. When he turned in her direction from his place in the Captain's chair to request an open hailing channel to Starfleet Security, the bright, flat lighting of the bridge clearly showed dark circles beneath his eyes. Nyota returned her attention to her console, but something about Jim's demeanor worried her.

Sulu stepped into his role as the head of _Enterprise_ Security. He and Spock carried out the Captain's request to direct crew to form small groups. The groups would investigate the entire ship, seeking other drones.

Donstelralth, Serranstivlen, and Stelendos asked Spock to assign them each to a search team. "Allow us to help you. It is logical, _Opidsu_ (Lord) Spock," Donstelralth said in rapid-fire Vulcan with a rolling _rrrr_ , a remnant of his regional accent from old Vulcan. The accent, which he'd carefully corrected through long practice to fit in better with upper-class clients, was only noticeable when he felt strongly about something. "We are stronger than humans - I do not intend offense, but you know it is true. We can lift heavy objects more quickly."

"It is against Starfleet ethics to put guests at risk of injury or in the line of combat," replied Spock.

" _Sanoi,_ I insist." Donstelralth's long, graying hair swung as he shook his head in disagreement. "I will help search. If I am injured I will bear the wound proudly because I have helped the _Enterprise_."

"One like me can seldom repay anyone with anything except labor." Stelendos spoke up earnestly, so eager to help that he forgot his shyness and finally made full eye contact with Spock. "Starfleet rescued us, and I wish to help in return."

The Vulcans were sincere and Spock did not wish to offend them. "Agreed, _osular_ (honored people). You may join the search. Please contact me immediately if any problems occur."

...

As the search began, Sciences analyzed the mysterious object, providing a preliminary identification of it as a kind of drone. No one knew how many were aboard, so the crew was directed to search for similar objects. Nyota used the ship wide channel to provide a verbal description for crew in areas without monitors.

"The drone is approximately 30 millimeters long, 25 millimeters wide at its broadest section. When aloft, it appears as a cluster of colored lights. The drone is capable of flight and has a front-mounted heat sensor, as well as several claw-like projections. Approach with caution; use of phasers is permitted. It may use a moderately strong magnetic field to attach itself to surfaces..."

An atmosphere of grim efficiency enveloped the ship as crew used handheld scanners, the ship's built-in security system, and visual examination to search for another drone. People searched thoroughly, anxiously, some kneeling on the floor to look beneath furniture without regard for the condition of their party clothes. How could they know if the object followed remote directions or not? It might hide itself atop a beam, behind a box, in any room aboard ship with a vent. No Jeffries tube went unexamined; fiber optic and robotic cameras searched miles of vents. Crew members permitted every centimeter of their cabins to be searched by volunteer teams, and then rotated back into search crews themselves. Donstelralth and the Vulcan apprentices lent their strength to moving heavy crates and furniture. Several crew members felt mildly embarrassed when search teams saw unusual personal possessions in their quarters. However, under emergency conditions no one cared much about which thirty-five-year-old had a small, much loved teddy bear, or who owned Tellarite sex toys. Only alien objects capable of harming the _Enterprise_ mattered to people attempting to save their own lives.

Charlie Steap followed the members of his search team, looking busy and making the occasional cheerful remark. He behaved like a good crewman as they walked the corridors, climbed stepladders to look atop cabinets and beams. If he hadn't felt so comfortably smug he'd have laughed at everyone. He knew something about the drone that they didn't. The construction of the drone was unfamiliar to him, although he knew it was technologically advanced. As he'd pulled the drone out of his sleeve before releasing it into the vent as they'd told him to do, he'd almost marveled at it. He supposed it held some sort of tracking device and could be remotely controlled. The drone also had some kind of sensor, maybe for body heat. It hadn't pressed the metal disk into his arm until he'd exerted himself a bit, carrying the box while he walked to Sciences with Chekov.

The aliens hadn't told him much, he realized. His discussions with them were one sided: he told them about what the _Enterprise_ was doing and where and they told him that the next payment was forthcoming. Steap frowned. Where was their home planet? Why did they look slightly different, perhaps disguised, during each video call? Each time he tried asking them for details about themselves, they either ignored his questions or reminded him that they controlled his next payment.

Too bad he didn't know more about them. If he did he might be able to turn on them and sell the information to Starfleet. Naturally, he'd been taught at the Academy that Starfleet never paid for information, but Steap didn't believe that anymore. Everyone and everything had a price.

...

Enthusiastic but serious, the Vulcans assisted with the search, using their strength to help move and replace stacked items. They worked on separate teams. Donstelralth, who spoke Standard fluently, surprised many of the _Enterprise_ crew with his dry wit and philosophical Vulcan quotations (" _Pulau na'vathular k'nuhk. Nar-tor pulaya s'au k'ka'es - k'el'rular tun-bosh_ (Reach out to others courteously. Accept their reaching in the same way, with careful hands)".

Stelendos learned many new vocabulary words as the search team opened and shut and pushed and lifted. Some of the words sounded obscene, judging by the facial expressions on the people who said them. It was agreeable to be accepted as part of the search effort. Even if it were futile he was proud to try to help other beings survive. It did not matter that so many were human. IDIC was real and he was keeping the philosophy alive through his actions. Surak would have been pleased.

…

Jim Kirk remained on the bridge, speaking to Spock, who strode through the corridors checking in with search teams and relaying reports to Jim. Jim also remained in constant communication with other crew and Starfleet officials. Nyota managed a rapid flow of incoming and outgoing communications. Starfleet tech from Starbase 231, the closest Federation outpost in their planetary sector, had questions about the ship's status, and simple wishes of hope for the starship and its crew. Nyota also relayed reports from the search teams to and from the bridge.

"Ms. Uhura." Spock addressed her formally during work hours. "You have now been at this station for eight hours and twelve minutes. Go on break and return after six hours unless summoned by the alert system or the Captain."

"Mr. Spock, I want to see this through. I can continue without such a long break." Her eyes felt dry from long hours of watching multiple monitors, and her lower back ached.

Spock looked at her doubtfully. "Such commitment is admirable, but fatigue results in errors. Your relief staff is here." He nodded at Lieutenant Chu, a Communications staff member waiting uneasily to replace Nyota.

"I haven't made any errors, and I prefer to remain on the bridge during this type of emergency." Nyota tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. She was tired, but too worried to leave her post willingly.

His voice remained flat, uninflected. "Lieutenant, this is an order."

"Yes, Mr. Spock." Annoyed, Nyota bit back further reply, gathered her padd and left her workstation. Spock meant well. He was right; she needed to rest, but she wanted to know what was happening to the ship. She lingered near a large monitor at the entry to the bridge, reluctant to leave.

Dr. McCoy strode out of the turbolift and over to Jim Kirk. "Captain, please tell me as soon as possible when we can scale back the search. I understand that this is an emergency, but for a few people this is the equivalent of a triple shift. Two crew people fainted. Folks ain't gonna be much help if they're delirious and hungry."

"Understood, Dr. McCoy. I'm ordering all crew but the team in the last sector to go off duty. They've only got one storeroom to search, and they're almost finished."

"When are _you_ going to rest?"

"I'll stay on for a few more hours. I need to walk the ship myself, see how people are managing."

"Then you're going to sleep right? Let's be reasonable about this, Jim."

"When am I not reasonable?" Jim snapped. Heads turned away from screens at various workstations to stare as though observing a stranger. Jim's expression immediately showed regret. He rubbed his palm over his face. "Len, I'm sorry. Excuse me."

"Captain, it's all right. I understand, we're all stressed." Jim had appeared tense and distracted some days before the drone appeared, but McCoy decided to address that in a more private setting.

Jim's tired eyes connected with Nyota's. "Uhura, open a ship-wide channel. Please," he added carefully. She returned to the workstation and did so, apologizing to Lt. Chu. Jim spoke to the entire crew through the Captain's comm, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Attention, all crew. Thank you for your hard work. No evidence of intrusion by additional drones has been found, but we have one small area to search, so give it all you've got, people. Anyone not in that area, please sign out and then eat and rest. I know that you're all giving this your closest attention, and I appreciate it. Bridge crew rotates out with relief crew. Kirk out."

Spock approached the Captain's chair. "Captain, you have been on the bridge for eleven hours, twenty-one minutes, and eight seconds, inclusive of time before and after Mr. Scott's emergency call. May I suggest -"

"I'd prefer to discuss this later, Mr. Spock." Jim said. Spock looked back at him impassively, then glanced at the changing data on a nearby monitor and changed the subject.

"The search of the last sector of the ship is now complete, and the search produced nothing. No further spy devices were found; nor is there any indication of physical damage or sabotage."

"Good. Thank you, Mr. Spock; notify all Enterprise crew that the search is complete, and join me in my ready room to make the formal report to Starfleet. McCoy, you too, please. Uhura, please gather the planetary dossier and base notes for Starbase 231 and join us in forty-five minutes; bring Mr. Scott with you." he added.

"Yes, sir."

Not all Starfleet personnel managed stress well or carefully. Spock knew that Nyota managed her own work-related tension through exercise, prayer, social activities, and occasional indulgence in knitting and recreational reading. Most of the human crew probably regarded his own meditation practice as a sort of stress reduction, unaware its spiritual and personal aspects. Usually Spock sparred with Jim or Sulu in the ship's gymnasium during the week. Jim had not come to the gym at the usual time for several days. Allowing for the possibility that Jim dealt with other responsibilities, Spock practiced martial arts with McCoy and Sulu instead. Now he regretted his lack of attention. It would have been easy to seek Jim out and inquire about his activities and psychological state.

…

 _Engineering, The Enterprise_

Serranstivlen helped search in Medical, Sciences, and Engineering. He moved heavy panels and equipment. He also scanned catwalks to make sure that no additional drones were concealed beneath the walkways. He, like the humans, smiled when he heard Captain Kirk announce the search was over. Serranstivlen replaced a heavy roll of insulation material and left the small storeroom he'd been searching and returned to the main Engineering area where Scotty and other Engineering and Sciences staff concluded their search below the floor panels.

" _Osasu_ Scott, I have finished searching inside the storeroom and found nothing. I see you are replacing the floor panels. I will help, they seem very heavy."

"Thanks, Serran. All clear! It's great to have ye Vulcan lads as part of this effort." The Engineer looked tired, but determined. Serranstivlen gripped the heavy panels in his big hands and maneuvered them back into place with help from the crew.

"Hardly need our help, do ya, muscles?" one of the other men – Steap, it was – said to him. "Hope you're not angling for a Starfleet job."

Was the man joking, jealous of his strength, or expressing some other emotion entirely? Most of the humans aboard had been cordial so far. Serran decided it was an expression of humor. He shrugged and continued to work until he had replaced the last floor panel.

"Thank ye, gents," Scotty said. "Anyone now pullin' a third shift, now hear this: get out! Go sleep, eat, rest easy for a while. I won't have anyone injured in my area because they're too tired to work safely. That goes for anyone on a second shift too."

"This has been an unusual experience, _Osasu_ Scott," Serranstivlen said quietly.

"I thank ye for your help, lad. Call me Scotty."

"But you are an officer."

" Right now I'm just a very tired man from Edinburgh. Ye worked for hours here without asking for a break and ye get along well here. Use my nickname, unless ye feel compelled to call me Montgomery for some reason. Even me Mam called me Monty." Scotty glanced around the room. "One more thing, and then you go sleep or whatever Vulcans do. Will ye please return that toolbox to the storage pod on the next level up? The turbolifts may be busy now, so use that Jeffries Tube instead." Scotty inclined his head towards the hatch.

Serranstivlen hastened to pick up the toolbox and nimbly climbed up the Jeffries Tube. He heard footsteps, someone moving aside as he neared the top. A uniform miniskirt and a pair of shapely legs came into view, and he slowed his ascent to look at them more easily.

The blond yeoman from the party stared back at him. "Serran! I hope you like what you see; you're staring hard enough."

He opened the mesh safety door to the tube and let himself out. "Pardon me, please." He looked down at her. She did not appear angry, but he should explain himself. "I appreciate your legs."

She giggled. "Is that so? I appreciate your chest and shoulders."

He looked down at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. "Your laugh...it is like music."

"Oh, come _on_. That line's old even on New Vulcan."

"Perhaps, but it is true. It is a fine distraction in an emergency."

"The emergency and the ship search are over now. I'm so relieved; I just want to _relax_ ," she said, batting her eyelashes.

Serranstivlen wondered if something were caught in her eye but remembered seeing such behavior among humans previously. Perhaps she welcomed more than conversation. "I have learned much aboard the _Enterprise_ in a short time; the humans here tell me much about starship life, and Earth life, and the human body."

Her eyes widened with curiosity; she watched his bare arms flex as he lifted the heavy toolbox and put it away in the storage pod. "May we socialize? Perhaps I can share some of what I have learned."

…

 _Quarters of Lieutenant Charlene Masters_ _, The Enterprise_

It was the first time Scotty had ever been inside Charlene's quarters, though she'd previously visited his. Neat, but not oppressively so. Colorful holos on the walls, and a round shallow basket woven with contrasting reeds and a geometric pattern sitting on the table. He waited almost shyly in a chair near the door while she changed her shoes. Still feeling a rush of nervous energy, he'd asked Charlene to walk in the observation deck with him for a few minutes. Surprisingly, she agreed, saying that she couldn't sleep yet either.

His gaze lit on a small glass of water placed on the floor near the head of her bunk.

"Careful, Charlene – looks like ye forgot a water glass there last night. Mind ye don't walk into it."

"What? Oh – that's, uh, that's supposed to be there." She looked away for a moment, her hands fidgeting.

"Pardon?"

She stopped fidgeting and looked at him steadily. "It's a custom from my people. My family is from the South Carolina Sea Islands. You might have heard the terms 'Gullah' in your travels, or 'Geechee' in some of your old sound recordings. That's us. I had…a lot on my mind recently, and so I tried an old custom. If you want an ancestor to speak with you in your dreams, place a glass of water beneath the head of your bed and their spirits may give you a bit of advice. Usually I hide that glass when people come over."

"Oh. I've never heard of that, but makes sense, I suppose. If you wish someone to have a chat with ye, offer them a drink at least. 'Tis the polite thing to do."

"Not the sort of thing engineers usually do, though." She sat next to him. "Aren't you going to say it's unscientific?"

"No. Life isn't simple, as we've just been reminded. And yes, you're an engineer, but ye are a woman too." They looked at each other for a long moment. He almost reached for her hand. Almost. "Shall we have our walk now?"

They talked quietly about the search as they made their way to the Observation Deck. Exhausted crew people staggered past them toward their beds, exchanging weary, victorious smiles with them.

"Are you feeling any better, Scotty? Going to tell me what worried you in the transporter room?" Charlene asked when they were alone, standing by a broad window.

"I wasn't exactly worried, just...felt something. Keep this one close, 'Lene."

"I will."

"When I was not such a wee lad - nine years old - I was visiting my grandparents in the small town where they lived. I liked Edinburgh but their place was magic for a child - massive old trees, creaky old house, even a burn runnin' through the property - ah yes, you know a 'burn' is a stream, yes," he said as Charlene nodded. "On one visit during the winter holidays, I was playing outside with me brothers, and my grandmother came tearing out of the house. Gathered us all up like a hen and chicks and made us come inside. It wasn't even raining! When we asked her why she said, 'I'm afraid that one old tree in the garden is about to fall right on top of you' - she could _see_ it happen, almost. We argued until she let us back outdoors, on the other side of the house - without trees. Within the hour, a ferocious windstorm rolled inland. Wind howling like wolves, pelting rain, tiles torn off the roof. That old tree came down right where we'd been playin'. All of us teased her and called it coincidence."

"You could look at it from both sides," Charlene said. "She loved you and wanted you to be safe, and naturally she'd be attentive to potential risks. After all, she'd been a mother herself."

"True," Scotty shrugged. "But the next year she saw my cousin Roger's car accident, the week before it happened. Made a videocall to Edinburgh to warn us. Even pointed to the arm he was gonna break; left arm, it was. She saw other things too. Finally I asked Mum and she said my grandmother had been saying things like that all her life, so often that she didn't notice it any longer. 'You know your family has the Sight, don't you, Monty?'And we didn't really discuss it much beyond that. But during the past few years, I've been having premonitions. Sometimes I see things clearly, when I don't want to see them. Other times I know something's…off, but I can't say exactly what it is or what it means. I just know, and I hate not being able to do something about it. That's what happened in the transporter room. Something's wrong, and it wasn't only the drone. Oh, 'Lene. Now you're just lookin' at me. Ye aren't thinkin' of calling Dr. McCoy, are ye?"

"Certainly not. It's nothing to be frightened of," she said soothingly. " And you know about _me_. Why would I, of all people, think anything's wrong with _you_?"

"Most people don't believe in what they can't see."

Charlene smiled at him. "Electricity. Sound waves. Gossip. Can't see 'em, but we all know how powerful they are, yeah? Really, Scotty, the oddest things about you are how you manage to get along so well with everyone aboard, and how you mysteriously obtain highly desirable items while we're on deep space runs. Really, where do you get Scottish breakfast tea - in a _tin_ , no less - when the nearest planet is Andoria? Don't tell me it's transwarp beaming, because I won't believe you."

Relieved by Charlene's acceptance of him, Scotty smiled back. "I must keep _some_ secrets, lass."

Charlene felt heat spread to her face. She liked hearing Scotty's voice call her _lass_. It was terribly inappropriate, but she felt soft and fuzzy and fluttery when he did, ridiculous feelings for a woman past thirty. Anyone else would have been warned of a complaint to Human Resources for calling her a girl, Somehow she and Scotty had entered a zone far, far away from work. Too bad she felt as though she had no map to guide her through properly. "Okay, you rascal. I'll keep your secret. I might not turn down a box of Brodie's in exchange, though."

"Playing hardball, my dear Miss Masters! Is Taylor's of Harrogate acceptable if I can't source the first?"

"Yes, thanks...and if you can find a jar of Marmite to go with it, you've got my loyalty forever." She elbowed him, and he blushed.

"A Marmite fancier too! _You're_ the one's been keeping secrets around here, you under-the-table breakfast fanatic. Agreed, ma'am. Ye shall have your smuggled brekkie items, as soon as I can pull the appropriate strings."

Laughing, Charlene leaned against him, confirming his suspicions that she was indeed curvy and soft in some very nice places. Unfortunately, his communicator chimed. Uhura informed him that his presence was required in the Captain's ready room.

…

 _Captain Kirk's Ready Room, The Enterprise_

Jim and Spock completed their required report to Starfleet by videolink. As the transmission ended Jim slumped back in his chair.

"Jim, may I inquire about your personal thoughts regarding this situation?"

"There's more to this than a drone. We don't know how long it flew around the _Enterprise_. It very likely gathered and transmitted data in some way that got through our communications security." Stubble rasped against Jim's hand as he rubbed his face. "Gentlemen, I've made a decision to space-dock at Starbase 231 and have the ship undergo a complete security search by ground crew. They'll search everything from tech to cargo storage. All _Enterprise_ crew will take a shuttle to the surface of the base planet, Alpha Cachette, or beam down. Everyone will be temporarily billeted planetside, staying in Starfleet housing in the small city near the base. Kind of a compulsory shore leave," he said wryly. "When I'm satisfied with the results of the search, everyone comes back aboard and the _Enterprise_ continues her mission."

Spock frowned. "Captain, I disagree with your decision. Our own _Enterprise_ security personnel and crew have already conducted thorough searches of public and private areas, employing tools within the ship's own security system and hand-held scanning devices. As you know, I temporarily reassigned dozens of staff to assist in the searches, at considerable detriment to the ship's normal workflow. Please reconsider the utility of docking to conduct additional, perhaps unnecessary, searches."

"What if we've all missed something? What about my crew's safety?" Jim persisted. "I prefer losing a few days of scheduled travel over being blown up in transit, or allowing crew to suffer as the ship's systems shut down one by one. I'm responsible for hundreds of lives and I will _not_ put them at risk."

"Have you considered the possibility that you, yourself, are at some risk now?"

Jim glared at Spock. "How is that?"

McCoy said in a calming tone, "Captain, if I follow Mr. Spock's line of thought, crisis situations sometimes produce intense reactions to stress. Not that I'm singling you out - it's just that the presence of the drone, coupled with your usual responsibilities, may affect your response to our situation."

"You don't think the crew's stressed?" Jim replied.

"Of course, but it's nothing unexpected; mild exhaustion, and a few people experienced anxiety or minor muscle strains from overexertion. Generally, a good, safe performance by an excellent crew."

"Maybe you should examine me next, Bones. Mr. Spock seems concerned about me."

"Doctor, I am indeed concerned about Jim's well-being. He has now been on duty for nearly twenty-four hours without an adequate meal or sufficient rest. Jim, I do not intend to make personal remarks, but I have observed some differences in your behavior during the previous two days."

Jim looked irritated. "Jeez, Spock, I have insomnia for a couple of days and that's reason for a _psycho-vac_? Whatever happens out here in space, I can handle."

McCoy winced. "Easy now, Jim. Please don't use that term."

"Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities, Bones, but it seems like that's the implication. Nothing's wrong with me."

A few Starfleet Captains were known to have undergone what was pejoratively referred to as a 'psycho-vac', a forced removal from Captain's duties and their starships following psychological breakdowns. Spock knew that McCoy and Nyota loathed the term, both arguing that it was insensitive, cruel, and showed a lack of respect for people experiencing psychological stresses that might befall any humanoid in a position of great responsibility. It was unlike Jim to speak thus; he must be under a great deal of stress.

Spock remembered something Nyota had taught him about conflict resolution. He changed his body posture, uncrossing his arms, leaning slightly forward, and trying to make himself appear relaxed, empathetic, and willing to listen.

"Please excuse me, Jim. I did not mean to suggest that you are in an altered state of mind. I would like to hear what you have to say."

Surprised, Jim stared at Spock, then exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "Our recent experiences with combat situations and on-planet missions have been difficult, to put it mildly. Even my diplomatic trip to New Vulcan involved knife attacks. I have no shore leave scheduled for a while. Usually all this stuff doesn't bother me. Right now, it does."

"Understood. Right now it bothers you. I agree that leave time is beneficial to anyone." Spock echoed Jim's words. Nyota had explained that doing so helped the other person to understand that you were indeed listening to them.

McCoy watched Spock. His First Officer was obviously learning something from Uhura. _Well, butt_ _er my biscuit. Marriage_ _change_ _s_ _even_ _Vulcans. Hell, if it works_ _this well_ _on Spock, maybe_ I _should give it another shot._

"Guys, this emergency has been hard on all of us. The danger was within; we couldn't shoot phaser cannons at it. I could order you to go on leave, Jim. Think it over."

Jim stood up and stretched. "Believe me, I've _been_ thinking about it already. Federation notes for Starbase 231 mentioned a large beach. We're arriving just in time for the end of the warm season, but if anybody's up for a last chance on the sand, I'm gonna put on my trunks and head out there on the first free afternoon." He smiled, looking a bit more optimistic.

"Back to the real issue here. No drone before Algid-17. So either it came up with us, or it lay dormant on board until it could conveniently fly through the corridors during the party…of course, it may have been flying through the hallways for several days before we even got to Algid-17. Everyone of us who went out in the landing party wore a suit; nothing was on those suits when we returned, right? The collection box contained nothing but soil and atmospheric samples, a tricorder, a few pieces of our own gear."

"There is one other way the drone may have come aboard," Spock said hesitantly. "The Vulcans."

"Donstelralth was honest with us – wasn't he? Why would Vulcans sabotage a Federation ship? They've got more to gain from the Federation than to lose. That dog don't hunt." McCoy shook his head.

"We'll have to question them," Jim said. "I'm sorry, Spock."

"Few Vulcans would betray a rescuer, or betray loyalty once shown," Spock replied sternly. "Donstelralth and his apprentices worked beside our crew without resting until the emergency ended. They clearly expressed their desire to help us." Spock's cheekbones flushed green. "It is unlike Vulcans to deceive allies."

"Who else was able to bring anything aboard?" Jim demanded. "Me? Chekov? Steap? You? Do we need to question each other? All of us are Starfleet. The only other possibility I can think of is that something got transported during beaming, but Scotty's equipment would have caught it. Nothing was on those transporter pads except us and those Vulcans."

"It is unwise, Jim," Spock said tersely. "Although Donstelralth holds no political position, it is possible that some of his clients do. Donstelralth is a loyal Vulcan citizen and supports the goals of the Federation. If he is treated badly on the _Enterprise_ , he may choose to express his discontent to a politically influential client and cause discontent. Please do not interrogate the Vulcans or ask to search their belongings unless evidence linking them to the drone is found. I will attempt to address the issue in a way that they will not find insulting. It is possible that their shuttle was tampered with, and that the drone was attached to their possessions."

"Somebody out there has access to the _Enterprise_ schedule, then, and who knows what other classified information." Jim frowned. "Even the possibility makes a Federation search essential. We stay in space-dock, with some crew planetside, until I'm satisfied that the ships' safe. You know that the Federation would have ordered this anyway, Spock. I'd rather continue our mission, but we have to do it safely."

Nyota and Scotty arrived at the Captain's ready room then; Sulu and Chekov joined them. All listened carefully as Jim and McCoy explained the reasoning behind the plan to dock at Starbase 231 for a full search.

At Jim's request, Nyota presented an overview of useful cross-cultural communication information relevant to Alpha Cachette, the planet housing the land-based parts of Starbase 231. Climate (late summer), local languages (many, including Standard and a sort of local pidgin which was easy to understand), safety (very), entertainment (beach, café), and population (small city surrounded by farms, Mayor known for being smart , accessible to constituents, friendly to the Federation). Comfortable, but not particularly cosmopolitan; a good place to release some stress.

"Are there any other notes from the cultural dossier?" Jim looked drowsy.

"All local foods are safe to eat; however, one popular plant," Nyota gestured towards the projected image of a dark purple and green plant with heart-shaped leaves – "may produce headaches or disorientation in people unaccustomed to it. So if it shows up on your plate, just push it aside – politely, of course."

Nyota carefully maintained a composed, calm expression as she moved on. "Captain Kirk, I made a quick videocall to a representative of their tourist bureau to obtain more information about cultural norms. She mentioned an interesting aspect of the local culture which was _not_ included in the official Federation planetary cultural overview. During the pre-Federation historical period, the dominant cultures of Starbase 23 engaged in some sort of female-oriented reinterpretation of various Earth-based, humanoid religions."

She looked around to make sure people were still paying attention, and continued. "As you all know, the planetary government is officially secular and that religion is no longer practiced. However, there are certain...cultural remnants. Even when local people are speaking Standard with you, they may make references to appreciation of certain aspects of female anatomy or psychology. Their own attitudes range from reverence to humor, it's unpredictable. However, they dislike outsiders who don't take the influence of their religious culture seriously. The best approach is probably to listen but avoid any reaction or comment."

"That's fine," Jim said. "I appreciate your additional effort. What _is_ this religion, exactly?"

"Vulva worship."

An awkward silence fell over the conference room. Chekov flushed a deep red and studied the grain in the surface of the table. Sulu blinked, his mouth open. Scotty looked ready to burst from the effort of holding back a joke. Nyota sensed an inquisitive tingle through the mating bond and looked at Spock. He regarded her so intently that she felt heat rise to her skin in response.

 _I intend to turn this custom to our advantage, Nyota._

Jim Kirk's face nearly glowed with anticipation, as though someone had told him he would be allowed to enter a large amusement park and ride on all of the rides for free.

* * *

Thanks for reading, and special thanks to everyone who has posted a review or comment so far!

* * *


	8. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8: Respite
> 
> Vocabulary in this chapter:
> 
> Adun'a= wife or bondmate (female). Vulcan.
> 
> Adun=husband or bondmate (male). Vulcan.
> 
> Ashayam = beloved. Vulcan.
> 
> Might could= might (may). "Might could" is a common phrase in Southern/Midwestern U.S. colloquial English.
> 
> Spell = A short period of time. Southern U.S. English, 19th – 21st c...
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from depictions of them.

**_Inside Spock and Nyota's shared quarters_ **

**_The Enterprise_ **

Off duty at last, Nyota pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched. Somehow she'd kept her eyes open in the warm shower; now the bed stretched out before her, waiting to carry her to the land of restorative sleep. Her new peach-colored satin nightgown peeked out teasingly from beneath the corner of her pillow where she'd left it over a day ago. She'd hoped to wear it to delight both Spock and herself. Now she was far too tired. If fate were kind, maybe she'd try again some other night. Nyota pulled on a soft, worn camisole and shorts.

The door slid open and Spock entered. He glanced toward the connecting door to her individual quarters, where she still maintained a small bed and office; then he looked back to her, relief visible on his face.

" _Adun'a,_ I am pleased to find you here."

"I'm glad to see you too, love. Where else would I be?"

He moved closer to her. "I considered the possibility of your sequestering yourself to avoid interacting with me. Were you displeased with me for ordering you to leave the bridge?"

"Oh, are you still worried about that? Sweetheart, I wasn't going to go and sleep in the other bed and lock you out just because you followed proper procedure. I knew that I needed to rotate off duty. I just wanted to see the crisis through, to know that everyone was safe – just as you did. My admirable First Officer takes good care of his crew, I know that. I _do_ have one problem with you, though."

"Problem?"

"Where's my kiss?"

It was a slow, soft kiss, and a welcome one. Afterward he rested his forehead against hers.

"How long can you stay with me?" she asked.

"Four hours."

"I'll take what I can get." Nyota grasped the edge of his blue uniform shirt and pulled it over his head, followed by his black undershirt. "Lie down with me for a while?"

"Yes." He took the shirt from her. She knew that habit compelled him to fold his clothing tidily before placing it in the cleaning chute, so she kissed his cheek and left him to his preparations.

Spock pushed his head beneath the faucet in the bathroom, running water over his hair and washing his face. He stripped down to his boxer shorts and lay beside her. They fell into and wrapped around each other, moaning, absorbing each others' warmth, fatigue and affection.

"Rest well, _ash_ _ayam_. One additional day of travel awaits us."

"Mmm. I won't sleep long enough to disrupt my internal clock. I'll go to the gym when I wake up. I hope the atmosphere in there's better than it was last time."

Although her side of the bond was hazy with weariness, he sensed uneasiness, a memory of aggression. "Tell me."

"It's nothing, just some trash talk from an Ensign who didn't realize how inappropriate he was." Spock's arms tensed around her. "Easy, babe. Let's discuss it later. I can handle it," Nyota insisted.

The steady, reassuring thump of his heart quickened slightly against her forearm. Spock rose up on one elbow. "Nyota. You will tell me."

Spock was not the type of husband who demanded that his wife obey him, but Nyota knew when he was willing to out-argue her. She recounted the unpleasant encounter with Steap.

The muscles in Spock's shoulders felt hard and still. "My _bondmate_ is not a 'chick'. His behavior was exceedingly disrespectful and I am displeased."

"Like I said, his mouth outruns his thoughts. I've overheard people saying much worse about me. Anyway, we were off duty. I'm not defending him," Nyota explained. "I'm just saying that it isn't surprising."

"An officer such as yourself is in some ways never off duty unless on shore leave. This is a curious situation. Ensign Steap betrayed no signs of such unacceptable behavior during our mission on Algid-17."

"Yeah, 'cause the away team was all _men_ , and you weren't in a situation where gender would have been discussed anyway. Maybe Steap thinks that the gym is male territory or something."

"In my understanding of this odd human practice, 'trash talk' typically involves disparaging an opponent's athletic ability while actually engaged in sport, not a refusal to participate in sporting activity with another. I will speak with him."

"Honey, maybe that isn't necessary. I barely know him – he couldn't possibly have a personal grudge against me. Maybe he just needs a reminder about how to deal with women crewmembers. Let's forget it. Cuddle with me before I fall asleep." She rubbed his shoulders soothingly, made him lie down. "One good thing... our young Vulcan guests responded quickly. Stelendos and Serranstivlen backed me up immediately, and Chekov and Miranda came over to help – although Steap probably would have ignored Ensign Miranda because she's female. The shorter one, Stelendos – he got right in front of Steap while Serranstivlen shielded me."

"Their defense of you is commendable, although your protection is _my_ responsibility. I can imagine an alternate scenario in which my own defense of you causes Ensign Steap to become temporarily airborne," Spock said dryly. "Ah, you are about to scold me, _adun'a_? Of course, I must adhere to standards befitting an officer." He sighed. "May we now leave conflict and narrowly averted disasters on the other side of our door?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Nyota smiled. "I wish that we could..."

"But you are too tired."

"Mhmm. Sorry. If things were different..."

"We will be patient." He kissed her forehead; she sighed happily, and then opened her eyes again.

"I _feel_ something from you...I haven't taken time to find out how _you_ are." She moved so that more of her bare skin touched his: legs, arms. Their mating bond revealed remnants of anxiety, tiredness, and apprehension.

"Oh, no. Move this way, _adun_." Rolling onto her back, Nyota pulled gently at Spock's shoulders so that he lay with his head tucked along the curve of her shoulder, one arm around her waist. "Let it go, love." She concentrated on sending him feelings of calm, comfort, acceptance and love. Pushing her fingers through his damp hair, she gently scratched his scalp with her short, smoothly shaped fingernails. The muscles all down his long, strong body relaxed; his head moved slightly as he released the tension in his jaw.

"Relax, big man," she whispered. "You don't have to be strong all of the time."

"Neither do you," he murmured back.

His thoughts opened themselves to her. A stream of images from the bridge, corridors of the ship, faces of crewmembers, thoughts of Sarek, concern for the safety of his wife, then a mental image of a single flame burning in his ceramic firepot.

Nyota understood that Spock would not rest yet. Instead, he intended to lie here with her until she slept, then meditate until his the end of his free hours neared and he returned to the bridge. He considered increasing the security setting on the door to her quarters, depending upon the ship's technology to protect her when he could not. Another door, the connecting one to the separate quarters she maintained – he accepted her wish to maintain some independence, although he did not wish her to shut him out.

There was a flicker of desire too, of his intention – Spock maintained that Vulcans did not _wish_ – to press his lips along the length of her back. Without words, Nyota let him know that she found the thought agreeable and that he need not limit his attentions to one area. A soothingly erotic fog drifted over her thoughts, and she settled into a deep sleep.

…

 **_Captain James T. Kirk_ _'s Quarters, the Enterprise_ **

"I don't sing well, but the last time I was home for winter holidays, I sang Christmas carols for almost two hours running at my cousin's party," Jim murmured. _"Winter Wonderland_ , _We Three Kings of Orient Are..._ I even surprised myself by managing the higher notes in O _Holy Night_." He sat in his quarters, chatting with McCoy. He'd asked the Doctor for a hypospray to help him sleep, but the hypospray rested unused in Leonard's hand while he listened to Jim.

"Homesick, are you? I thought that something was bothering you this week. I hear ya. I ordered gifts for my daughter and my ex-wife months ago, so they'll have something to enjoy at the holiday...but I'd rather be there with 'em. I reckon I can be pleasant around her new stepfather for at least a couple hours while Joanna opens her gifts. The guy's as common as pigs' tracks, but I can tolerate him for a spell."

"You're stronger than me. Haven't had much luck with my stepdad; we barely speak anymore. One good thing about all that singing was that as long as I sang I couldn't argue with relatives. It barely stopped 'em from arguing with me when the music ended, though."

"Y'all might could try to fix things, try talking with each other," McCoy suggested. "Would you want to go on leave to Iowa, see your family for the holiday?"

"Nah. Next year, maybe. I'd like to have a party for our _Enterprise_ crew, either planetside or once we come back aboard. Some of them probably feel a little sad over the holidays too, and the shipwide search was stressful for people. I'll ask Uhura and Sulu – they're pretty good at planning get-togethers."

"Hey, what about me? I know that folks call me grumpy, but they don't call it Southern hospitality for nothin'. I'll help too. It's good to hear you sounding better, Jim. Still want this hypospray?"

"Maybe I don't need it anymore." Jim stretched and yawned. "Sorry to call you in here for no reason."

"Sometimes the right medicine for a problem ain't what people expect it to be. Take it easy and rest up, Jim."

…

 **_Ensign Charles_ _Steap's Quarters, the Enterprise_ **

Charles Steap examined himself in the mirror. Hair, still thick; muscles, firm; teeth, clean and strong. Really, he had a lot going for him. There was no obvious reason why the blonde yeoman's attention had wandered while he was hinting that she might find a life outside Starfleet exciting, and well paid. Why she'd stared at that long-haired Vulcan instead of him, he couldn't figure out. Not that he was serious about the woman, but it might be nice to have some company at the expensive resort he'd found on a rogue planet outside the Federation. Too bad for her; he'd just find somebody else with more of a taste for good living. If his contacts would only hurry and send deposit the additional payment they'd promised him, he could purchase the false identity he'd need on planet.

The little metal disk inset into his arm grew warmer; Steap rubbed the skin surrounding it. Sometimes it itched. He sighed in relief as an incoming message chime sounded, and hurried over to his computer, working through layers of encryption.

"It's about time," he snapped as the vaguely familiar face appeared in the chat window onscreen. The moustache on his contact's face looked fake, and a cheap fake at that. Last time the alien had worn a wig, large earrings, and badly fitted beard.

"I understand the need for secrecy, but you could at least spend enough to get better looking disguises," Steap sneered.

"Humans do concern themselves with appearances too much," the alien returned in a deep, possibly digitally altered voice.

"Maybe pick up a sense of humor while you're at it." Steap shrugged. "What's your name this time?"

"You may call us Mercenaire today," came the reply, in a tone of voice both airy and smug. Steap, no fan of whimsy, frowned but decided to get down to business.

"I put the drone into the vent, as directed, and I assume it collected the ship data you wanted. This metal in my arm wasn't part of our original deal." He raised his arm toward the screen. "I want this thing off, pronto! What's it for, anyway? Tracking device? Can't you just count on me to tell you where the _Enterprise_ is going?"

"Can any being truly trust another in an unpredictable universe?" Mercenaire said rhetorically. "No, you will wear the disk until you meet with our representative, who will give you the final payment."

"Doesn't suit me. What's it worth to you if I decide not to report you to Starfleet?"

"There are other weak and greedy men aboard Federation ships."

"I'm better at games and hacking than they are. Probably. I don't appreciate being called weak. Greed I'll admit to. Your offer beats my Starfleet salary several times over, and I'm not stupid. Don't think you are either. Sweeten the pot and I can not only give you full mission schedule data for the _Enterprise_ , but I'll disrupt the onboard network and navigation. It'll slow down the mission long enough for you to meet up and dock with all of those ships carrying your counter-Federation allies and contraband meds. Only they aren't really medicines, are they?"

A long pause followed, and then the moustache moved briskly as the alien demanded, "What do you know of these things?"

"It wasn't too hard to guess. Disguises. Constant questioning about the _Enterprise_ flight schedule, number of personnel aboard, wanting know when we're going to the next Starfleet base or when we'll encounter other Federation ships. Plus, you seem to have access to a lot of currency in various denominations, easily converted from one to another. You're moving drugs, or something, and don't want anybody to notice you. It's time you listened to _me_ _,_ I think -"

The little metal disk had slowly grown hotter while Steap talked; now it burned and stung. Gasping, he bent over double.

"It was not our intention to use that, but you've made it necessary. Imagine: that disk twice as hot, with the added thrill of a Starfleet court-martial for disloyalty and exchanging confidential ship data for unregulated currencies. We can arrange for _both_ to happen to you."

Steap ran for the bathroom, thinking of pouring cold water over his arm, and then stopped. What would happen if he got the metal disk in his arm wet? Electrocution? Corrosion? He had no idea and that alien wouldn't give him any power by telling him. Desperate, he pressed it against the cool plastic amalgam surface of the wall tiles just as the metal disk began to cool.

The altered voice was still audible from the outer room, and he staggered back to the screen.

"Charles Steap. Do not threaten us."

"You're _evil_. I was just doing business, and you hurt me? Don't torture me just 'cause I want a fair price."

"Your earlier message indicated that our drone was destroyed, a ship search occurred, and the _Enterprise_ is now off schedule. You will obtain details about its planned activity for the next several days and report to us."

"When do I get my payment?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

"When we decide that you are no longer of use to us. Until then, Charles Steap...be careful."

…

 **_Spock & Nyota's shared quarters, the Enterprise_ **

Spock completed his meditation and carefully extinguished the flame in his ceramic firepot. His calm demeanor renewed, he washed, dressed, and reviewed communications from the bridge. He brushed a kiss against Nyota's forehead as she slumbered on, and then stood for a moment in front of the door. He had two confrontations to attend to—both were really duty matters, but Spock considered it likely that neither would be well received by the parties involved – before the _Enterprise_ entered space dock at Alpha Cachette and the crew descended to the planet surface.

First the Vulcans, then Charles Steap.

...

 _"Dawa ya homa ni quinini, dawa ya ubaya ni nini?"_

"The medicine of malaria is quinine. What is the medicine for wickedness?"

 _Source_ : "Sayings on East African Cloth" by Joseph G. Healey. Collection of, and Commentary on, 254 Sayings on East African Cloth (Misemo Kwenye Khanga za Afrika Mashariki -Tanzania)

* * *

Dear readers - thanks very much for reading, and for your patience between chapters!


	9. The Barber Doesn't Cut His Own Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:
> 
> Okosu = honored lady, or madam. Honorific / form of formal address.
> 
> Opidsu = Lord. Honorific / form of formal address.
> 
> Osasu = honored man, or gentleman/sir.
> 
> Osavensu = honored teacher.
> 
> Osular = gentlemen/sirs, ladies, ladies & gentlemen; 'honored people'.

_Kinyozi hajinyoi na akijinyoa hujikata (The barber doesn't cut his own hair and if he does he cuts himself; no one is completely self-sufficient; we all rely on each other)._

\- Kiswahili proverb

 

* * *

" _Opidsu_ Spock, this is an unusual request, considering the circumstances." Donstelralth's deep voice was steady, but his face and hands were flushed green with repressed emotion. "I honestly described all of the events that led to our becoming stranded, withholding nothing from you. We have followed ship rules. I do not understand why we Vulcans are now under suspicion." He crossed his muscular arms across his barrel chest and awaited a reply. His apprentices, Serranstivlen and Stelendos, watched their mentor and the First Officer of the _Enterprise_ apprehensively.

"Allow me to clarify, _Osavensu_ Donstelralth," Spock said in a respectful tone, suitable for addressing an elder regardless of Vulcan social class. "I do not wish to offend any of you, but as we do not know exactly how the drone came aboard the Enterprise, we must consider all possible means of entry."

"Honored Spock, if we meant to harm Starfleet we would not have assisted in the ship search," Serranstivlen blurted out. "Why would we betray you? Do you not trust us?"

"None of you are accused of wrongdoing, _osular,_ " Spock said. "Believe me when I say that both I and the entire crew appreciate the considerable time, care, and attention you gave to the search. However, the possibility remains that, without your knowledge, the drone attached itself to your possessions while you were stranded on Algid-17. I must use a tricorder to scan the exterior and interior surface of your toolkits and traveling bags. The tricorder will detect any traces of materials used to make the drone."

Donstelralth's anger abated; he clenched and unclenched one hand, then retrieved his own toolkit from the closet of his guest quarters. "Officer Spock has explained the situation, men. Go get your tool and traveling bags and bring them here to be searched. Please comply with his request and do not further question Starfleet procedures. It is a military organization, and there is much we do not know. "

Spock noted Donstelralth's use of the Standard word this time – _Officer_ instead of Opidsu (Lord), the formal Vulcan form of address. Spock almost preferred that no title had been used at all; the fragile possibility of a friendship with these Vulcans seemed suddenly distant.

Spock moved the tricorder over the each bag efficiently, breaking the tense silence by explaining his actions and the device's function during the procedure. Stelendos was fascinated by the tricorder, relaxing enough to ask Spock questions about its function and manufacture while a sullen Serranstivlen leaned against a far wall, arms crossed.

Relieved to find nothing, Spock finished scanning and switched the tricorder off. "The tricorder shows no sign of the materials related to the drone. All clear, gentlemen." Spock replaced the tricorder strap on his shoulder. "Please feel free to use all public areas of the _Enterprise._ As before, your presence is welcomed and valued on this ship. Before I leave _,_ I would like to discuss a different area of concern. It is my understanding that some crew members aboard the _Enterprise_ have expressed curiosity about you. Specifically, certain... _personal_ social interactions with you."

Serranstivlen ventured to speak. _"Opidsu_ Spock, we are not opposed to personal social interactions with humans." He glanced at Stelendos. "At least, I am not."

"N-n-nor I," the other apprentice stammered.

"Understood." Spock thought that the young Vulcans' discomfort around him was caused by his social rank, instead of his human blood. He wished that he could speak to them without such barriers between them. "You know of my own bond with a human woman, and the mixed public reaction to our union. Any Vulcan who interacts frequently with humans is subject to scrutiny from both sides – humans and other Vulcans. Some may judge you harshly, considering you to be inferior beings, or see you as nothing more than entertainment. You are all free men, Vulcan citizens and Federation allies, but sometimes the pursuit of temporary pleasures exposes one to difficult situations. Please be careful."

The apprentices exchanged a guilty glance, and Serranstivlen bit his lip.

" _Opidsu_ Spock, I appreciate your candor." Donstelralth said, his tone of voice sounding a bit friendlier. _"Eik-veshtaya to'ovau kau - lu veshtaya ri g_ _lazhau goh na'kastorilaya t'kashan (Wide experience increases wisdom, provided the experience is not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation.)"_

"An apt choice of quotation. Surak's observations are well suited to this matter. I would appreciate insight and wisdom such as yours if I were an unattached stranger aboard a foreign starship. Thank you for your patience," Spock said, and left.

…

The corridor was still empty in the early morning, aside from Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy. Both rose early to see to the business of the ship's last day of full operation before temporary space dock. They saw the First Officer leaving Donstelralth's guest quarters and fell into step alongside him.

"How'd the search go, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked.

"It went well, Captain. I found no evidence that the Vulcans brought the drone from Algid-17. One of the apprentices expressed dismay before the search, misinterpreting it as an indication of distrust. After I explained the purpose of the search they complied. I used a tricorder to analyze the surfaces of their traveling bags, but found no signs of materials used in the construction of the drones."

"Thank you. I'll speak with Sciences and Security about this."

McCoy cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice. "There's no polite way of saying this, Spock, but you may want to tell that tall one, Serranstivlen, to be a mite more discreet about his comings and goings. Yesterday I checked on a patient in crew personal quarters, and while I was walking back to Sickbay I saw Serranstivlen leaving a Yeoman's room."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I issued a ship wide command to respect the Vulcans' privacy. Sounds like the Yeoman interpreted 'privacy' creatively."

Spock half-raised an eyebrow and sighed audibly. "Captain, I warned the young Vulcans about unwelcome attention and unwise personal conduct. Apparently, I was too late."

"Hold on a minute; this might could be my own fault." McCoy briefly explained how he'd given the young Vulcans a detailed human anatomy lesson, with side notes on clitoral care and attention.

"The shorter one, Stelendos, probably won't give you much to worry about, but I suspect the taller one has what my Great-Aunt Minnie calls 'hot pants'. He bragged a lil' bit about his previous 'experience' and he's hoping to gain more. I shoulda just told him to stay out of the vagina business entirely," McCoy groaned. "May the gods spare me from young men and trouble. I just ain't got the patience."

"Easy, Len. There's nothing to worry about." Jim smiled confidently. "I'll have a chat with these guys, let them know that I think it's best not to sleep with anyone on my crew, and maybe they'll get the point."

McCoy blinked. "Jim, are you holding yourself up as a model of demure, virtuous behavior?"

"Sure thing. I won't tell 'em what I do on shore leave." Jim winked.

Spock's expression seemed mildly pained. "Captain. Doctor. I appreciate your interest in the welfare of these young men, but I doubt either one needs additional 'hints' about appropriate social behavior on a starship. Donstelralth is also present to offer moral and philosophical guidance. I also warned them that both humans and Vulcans may take an inappropriate interest in their personal lives...as my own experience has taught me."

McCoy nodded. "All right. We can't interfere with consenting adults, but maybe they'll take what you told them to heart, Spock."

"Thank you, Doctor. Excuse me; gentlemen. I will see you on the bridge."

"The guy can't win. People question him for being too human, or too Vulcan." McCoy said, watching Spock walk away. "He said the tricorder read clear. Maybe there's more to this drone thing than scanning and data analysis can tell us."

"Len, surely you don't suspect the Vulcans."

"I'm not saying _they've_ done anything, Jim, just that things may not be what they seem. If I tell you that a hen dips snuff, you'd better look under her wing for the can."

…

 **_Enterprise Crew Quarters and Gym_ **

**_Early morning_ **

It would be better for all the crew, Nyota thought, to maintain a normal routine before reaching space dock. People needed the familiar camaraderie and the knowledge that they could trust each other and work effectively as a team. She woke before her alarm went off and tried to maintain calming, positive thoughts while she dressed, reviewed new messages from the bridge, and quickly ate a protein bar before going to the gym.

Her tired body seemed to grumble, insisting she return to bed, but Nyota smiled and greeted crewmates in the corridor. She paused to ask some about their well-being.

 _Were you able to rest and eat?_ _Are you still feeling stressed?_

 _Earlier, you told me you wanted to send a message to your family; maybe I can access a crew communications channel for you if you have_ _trouble getting through?_

 _I hope you're feeling better now. I was worried about you. Please don't hesitate to go to Sickbay._

 _We're_ _all_ _in this together. Don't feel alone. Sometimes it's hard for any one of us._

Most kept up brave facades as Nyota did, or maybe it was all real: Starfleet folk tended towards resilience. However, by the time she reached the gym she'd made two appointments to meet and talk privately with Communications staff. Anyone who needed help with serious psychological issues would be referred to Medical, but these crewmates just wanted to discuss the incident's effect upon their work and their role. As always, Nyota planned to try to listen impartially and offer useful professional advice.

Surprisingly, the gym was busy despite the early hour. People ran, lifted, stretched, climbed, pulled and moved, casting off worry and fear. Nyota joined the energetic activity in the weight room, then the stationary bikes. She neared the end of her workout and saw that Scotty, who she'd, expected to be exhausted, leaving the indoor track as she approached it.

"Good morning, Scotty! Everything all right? While I was on the bridge, I heard that you and Engineering crew were on duty for nearly seventeen hours."

"Morning, Ny. Couldn't be better, I'm still in one piece and I've slept a bit. Look at us – aggressive normalcy, people keeping up the routine until the ship docks. Makes me feel proud, we're a tough bunch. I heard you worked well past your shift as well, wouldn't leave the bridge until ordered."

"I couldn't leave the bridge, not with our ship and crew at risk."

"That's the spirit. Ye may well be a Captain of your own ship someday. 'Captain Uhura' – how do ye like the sound of that?"

"Ha! That's a deep question for this time of day -"

Someone moved behind her left shoulder and she turned to see Ensign Steap passing from behind them and onto the track. Her shoulders tensed, but she spoke to him anyway. "Good morning."

Ensign Steap looked blankly back at her. No one else stood nearby, so he couldn't possibly have thought she greeted someone else. "Good morning," Nyota repeated in a slightly louder voice.

"Good morning," Steap finally replied, but he nodded at Scotty instead of Nyota.

Scotty crossed his arms, frowning. "Are ye all right, lad? The Lieutenant addressed ye first."

"Of course. Good Morning, Mr. Scott." Steap nodded, stepped onto the track and began to run at a relaxed pace.

"Don't mind him, Miss Uhura. His manners had a prior engagement today; he certainly didn't bring 'em _here,_ " Scotty said.

Nyota shook her head and shrugged. "I barely know him, but sometimes Steap behaves as though female colleagues don't matter. If I ever make Captain I sure as hell hope he's not on _my_ ship. That wasn't quite insubordination, but it was a lapse of common courtesy."

Scotty rolled his eyes. "Gads, Steap won't be in Starfleet long enough to have the privilege of having you sack him, the way he's actin'. Shall I complain to the Captain, lass, or do ye prefer to do the honors yourself?"

"Oh, it isn't worth it. Let's forget it, unless it turns into a real problem. Maybe I'll catch up with you later today, around coffee break time?"

"Right. Sixteen hundred hours? Already planned to meet up with a few others. Join us; we're a more sociable lot."

Nyota knew that 'others' included Charlene, but decided not to tease the Engineer, who could be quite shy about certain things. "Thanks, Scotty. I'll be there."

She said goodbye and sought out a treadmill in an adjoining room, as Steap was still on the track. Nyota preferred the 'real' experience of running on a track, the freedom of greater movement, but she'd had enough of Steap's indirect nastiness for one day. She set the holo projection around the treadmill to 'city park' and immersed herself in its artificial distractions, running as though a sunny, happy morning flowed all around her.

…

 **_Inside the Enterprise Cafeteria_ **

It was unsophisticated to appear perpetually awestruck, so Stelendos affected an air of calm detachment as he began his second day aboard the _Enterprise._ The interaction with _Opidsu_ Spock had worried him until he understood that Spock meant well. The ship search was both frightening and exhilarating. For several hours his actions had directly benefited Starfleet, and by extension, the Federation. It was good to feel part of something larger. During the search, Stelendos lifted heavy boxes, moved machinery and expanded his Standard vocabulary by listening. He still had difficulty understanding the sarcastic humor of many humans but assumed it was a way of showing bravery.

Stelendos looked around the cafeteria as he quietly ate breakfast, memorizing interesting details to tell the other apprentices back home on New Vulcan. His own family were diasporic Vulcans, who had lived on a colony at the time their home planet of Vulcan was destroyed, so Stelendos had had some prior exposure to living among different beings. However, his largely agricultural colony planet lacked the sheer variety of planetary origins and languages commonly found aboard a typical Starfleet ship. Even now, as he ate his first meal of the day alone – Donstelralth and Serranstivlen were no doubt on their way, but Stelendos preferred to begin early – the young Vulcan found much to observe and felt content.

Stelendos read books about humans of different appearances and behaviors working and living beside each other on Earth. Sometimes they formed friendships, studied each other's cultures and language, or even felt affection for one another. Some on New Vulcan mocked his interest in off-planet foods, music, and people, but he did not care, continuing to pursue his interests in the guest workers' neighborhoods of New Vulcan cities.

Now the _Enterp_ _rise_ journeyed to Starbase 231, where it would be searched again by Federation security. If he asked politely perhaps Donstelralth would delay their return to New Vulcan so that they could learn the results of the space dock search and have more social contact with the crew. There might even be another party to celebrate the successful search and the safety of the ship.

Sipping his tea, he imagined himself working aboard the _Enterprise_. There seemed to be little wood aboard the ship and many of the metal or composite furnishings were built into walls and floors. The most logical job for a Vulcan furniture and carpentry apprentice might be in Engineering, Facilities or Logistics, where he could assemble and repair things.

A woman in a blue uniform entered, waving greetings at other human crew. Her short hairstyle flattered the graceful lines of her head and neck. _Okosu_ Charlene Masters. Captain Kirk had introduced her to him and other Sciences and Engineering in the transporter room. The fit of her uniform reminded him of the action of forming smooth curves on a wooden table or chair leg on a lathe, molding the shape beneath his fingers. The woman put breakfast items on her tray and began to cross the room towards a table of other humans; then she paused and walked over to him.

Stelendos' heart thumped in his side. She smiled gently at him, without her teeth showing in that way that made him worry that he was completely out of step with human culture. He had easily exchanged greetings with her in the corridor yesterday, and had spoken with many other human females. It was illogical to be fearful now. He looked back at her and tried to seem approachable.

"Hello. May I join you here?"

"Yes, _Okosu_ Masters."

"Please, feel free to call me Charlene...I mean, if that's culturally acceptable." She sat down across from him.

"Charlene." He tried the soft sounds on his tongue.

"Please tell me if I am pronouncing your name correctly, Mr. Stelendos?"

Informality seemed most appropriate in this setting, where other beings interacted socially. " _Sanoi_...please, you call me only Stelendos, no Mister. I am not officer, or...big man."

The young Vulcan _was_ big. Taller than herself, anyway, with high, almost sculpted-looking cheekbones, broad shoulders and a lean, well-muscled frame. Charlene had no doubt that he could easily pick her up and carry her. Not that she'd give him any reason to, of course; she was just looking.

"Stelendos," she repeated, careful to correct her earlier pronunciation. "Whether or not you are an officer, everyone here on the _Enterprise_ wants you to feel respected. I saw you sitting alone and I thought I should say hello, at least."

"Thank you, it is..." He found the right word. "...considerate, good to think of others." He glanced down at the table as he felt his cheeks grow warm. It was not easy to explain that he desired the company of other beings despite his shyness. Stelendos liked the feeling he got from sitting in a group of talking beings. It was particularly good when human females were present, with their rising and falling vocal tones.

Stelendos noticed the grains and fruit on Charlene's tray, and he half-smiled. "You eat a Vulcan breakfast," he said without thinking.

She blinked her long eyelashes at him.

"We Vulcans eat a simple first meal. Grains. Fruit. Also tea."

"Oh!" Her smile was natural and appealing, and this time it was Stelendos who blinked, transfixed. "That's interesting, learning that we have something in common. Coffee for me, though." She took a sip and grimaced slightly.

"Disagreeable taste. Perhaps you change to tea next breakfast?" Stelendos was surprised to hear himself attempt a joke. Charlene's eyes widened, and she laughed. _Good!_ He must tell be sure to tell Serranstivlen, who spoke and flirted so confidently with all beings. Soon they conversed somewhat easily, discussing Stelendos' impressions of the _Enterprise,_ his furniture-making apprenticeship, and the work Charlene did in Engineering.

Although he had read that human societies were highly stratified around class and social status, Stelendos detected no negative change in Charlene's behavior towards him after he described doing manual labor. To the contrary, she expressed admiration.

"You're lucky, to have such a skill. You make things that people will use and enjoy every day, and from what Nyota's told me, beautiful items are produced in Donstelralth's shop."

Vocabulary words returning to him in a torrent, he tried to express himself.

"Is the same for everyone who do work they like, yes? You, Charlene, engineer. Working. Solving a problem, help to make ship operate securely so all are safe – it brings good thoughts, makes work good for you, yes? Same when I design, then make a fine table -" he tapped his fingers against the one where they were seated, and Charlene felt the heat from his hands even a few centimeters away from where her own hand rested – "so is like, I take idea, work to solve problem, working, working so _hard_ , and then a good clear thought comes when the object is made. I find a way to make it look pleasing, not only for me but others. Humans say – _beautiful_. When the piece has its own life, then I know am finished."

Stelendos caught himself, stifling the unseemly display of emotion. "Then I clean up, move to next project," he said shortly. Some humans were so easy to talk with that he let his guard down. He must be more careful.

Charlene smiled at him. "I think that I understand. What a thoughtful way to describe your creative process. I get excited about projects, too."

Over Charlene's shoulder, Stelendos saw the honored Engineer Montgomery Scott enter the room, scanning the tables in search of someone. His gaze rested on the table where he sat with Charlene; _Osasu_ Scott hesitated, and then left.

...

 **_Inside the Enterprise Gym_ **

Charles Steap rounded one end of the track, feeling warm and sweaty. If the gym hadn't been so crowded he could have removed his long sleeved T-shirt and cooled off. The metal disk in his arm might not be obvious from a distance. Hiding the thing was becoming uncomfortable.

He looked up and saw a tall, still figure clad in blue and black at the edge of the track. Surprised, he just managed to maintain his footing. Commander Spock hadn't been there a moment ago. The Vulcan's dark, unblinking gaze was pointed right at him. Steap's overheated feeling cooled. He slowed his steps, coming to a halt before the First Officer.

"Mr. Spock?"

"Steap."

Most of the other people in the gym were completing their routines and leaving, or using machines in a different room. Even the fans and vents circulating the recycled ship's air over the track sounded very quiet.

As Steap remembered from the surface mission on Algid-17, Commander Spock normally used formal language, addressing people by their titles while on duty and often even when off duty.

"Uh, sir?"

"I will be economical with time and speech. Have you some opposition to the presence of female beings on Starfleet missions?"

"No, of course not. I'm used to girls, worked next to them all through my years at Starfleet Academy."

"The majority of your classmates would have included _women_ over age eighteen rather than minors, is that not correct? Few _girls_ would have been among the student body."

Steap tried a casual, 'buddy' approach. The Vulcan was a man; they had at least that much in common.

"I stand corrected, 'women'. Listen, if this is about that thing with Uhura the other day –"

The First Officer's expression did not change, but Spock squared his shoulders in a way that emphasized just how tall and solid he was – " _Lieutenant_ Uhura, I was just having a bad morning. Totally wasn't personal against her, or anything. I was just not in a good frame of mind about some things." He wasn't lying; the aliens' delayed payments interfered with his plans to get the hell out of Starfleet. "I apologize, really. They call each other 'chicks', I call my friends 'you chicks', it's no big deal." Steap spread open his hands and smiled.

The gesture had the opposite of the desired effect; Spock's expression hardened. "In future, do not use pejorative terms such as _chick_ when addressing the women who serve beside you on this ship," Spock said. "They are as devoted to their work as the men, and at equal risk during emergencies and combat; perhaps a greater risk in some situations. You are their fellow officer and they need to know that you work with them in a cohesive unit."

Steap took a half-step back.

"All crew experience varying levels of stress; however, as an adult and Starfleet graduate you should know how to resolve interpersonal conflicts or to avoid creating them," Spock continued. "No being is perfect, but we are all capable of courtesy and mutual respect. As the past twenty-four hours have reminded us, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"I get it, sir. Won't happen again."

Another long, unblinking silence. The metal disk in his arm itched but Steap grit his teeth, unwilling to draw attention to it through a furtive scratch.

"Thank you, Steap." Spock half-turned to leave; then he turned around quickly, almost before the Ensign could change his surly expression to a grin. "If you are unwilling to spar with a woman officer in future, you may spar with _me_ instead. Blunted weapons or hand-to-hand combat."

Spock's voice held its usual Vulcan flatness, but the man could stare harder than a Romulan.

"Any time, Commander," Steap said tightly, staring back. Vulcan strength didn't matter. Aliens thought differently, and so far, Steap had managed to out-think an entire starship. He knew how to fake moves and ambush during a fight.

Spock regarded Steap with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Remember that as Starfleet officers, we fight on the same side. Good day, Ensign." He turned and left.

…

As he headed for the bridge, Spock's thoughts turned to the writings of Surak for the second time that day. " _Ma etek natyan — teretuhr lau etek shetau weh-lo'uk do tum t'on (We have_ _differences. May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us.)"_

Nyota might have quoted a Kiswahili proverb to him, _Kinyozi hajinyoi na akijinyoa hujikata (The barber doesn't cut his own hair and if he does he cuts himself; no one is complete_ _ly_ _self-sufficient_ _; we all rely on each other)._

Spock decided that he had to accept Steap's words for the present. One was not deceitful simply because one was disagreeable. However, it was not unpleasant to imagine knocking Steap flat on his back and out of breath during a sparring match.

…

 _Bridge/Command Area, the Enterprise_

Spock joined Kirk and McCoy in the Captain's ready room for a review of space docking procedures, followed by a brief video clip with handy planetside information: topography, power systems, and people. One section introduced local elected officials. An attractive woman strode across the screen, her hair threaded with silver, her posture somehow both stately and athletic. Her face had laugh lines in some places and was smooth in others. As she walked, a slit in her long purple skirt parted to show her legs; not slim legs, but firm, nicely formed ones.

Jim tapped the pause command. The image data on the screen read: _Her Honor Mayor Aurelia Tutto_.

"Ah, yes, the Mayor of our host town," McCoy said; he was paging through planetary notes on his padd during the video. "At least this base planet has some social life. According to this, Mayor Tutto organizes good parties and public celebrations. I once heard someone familiar with this place say that she was considered a great beauty in her time."

" _Was_?" Jim said. He shook his head. "I think that her time is _now_."

He tapped the command to set Aurelia Tutto's movements back into action and smiled, planning ahead.

…

 **_Bridge of the Enterprise, 15:45 hours_ **

Anomalies may reoccur in systems for a multitude of reasons. Nyota had already fixed a problem nearly identical to the one confronting her now. Why did it happen again? She had discussed the matter with the computing operations division of the _Enterprise_ and they'd solved the problem. Here it was again, in a different form.

"This is illogical," Nyota sighed. It was a simple matter of moving unlocked files back to their proper location and resetting certain security protocols. Not difficult, but time-consuming, and found no obvious reason for the occurrence. She was still tired and looked forward to the brief pleasure of the coffee break before she returned to work, finalizing planetside crew communication system and guidelines for all _Enterprise_ crew to use while they were on the surface of Alpha Cachette, waiting for the Federation to complete its thorough search and examination of the _Enterprise_ in space dock.

Nyota reported the new problem to Computing Operations, checked her work, and prepared to log out. Then her fingertips hovered uncertainly over her workstation. One more time, she would review her efforts once more to be certain. She would also check her work report for this shift, just in case fatigue had caused her to work less efficiently than unusual.

Nyota still leaned over her workstation when Communications staff for the next shift arrived.

"Hi, Lieutenant Uhura; is everything all right? Isn't your shift over?"

"Hi, Lt. Chu, how are you? Everything's fine. I just want to double-check my reports." In fact, she was now triple-checking her work.

"Oh. Can I help you with anything?"

"No, but thank you for asking. I'm nearly finished. Do you mind signing in on that other station, please?"

Spock paused and looked back at Nyota as he prepared to leave the bridge. Their shifts ended at the same time today, yet she continued working. Spock sensed her focusing her attention as she searched for errors in her own work, found nothing, and prepared to review it again.

Finally, Nyota decided she could find nothing else wrong. The anomaly seemed to recur every twenty-four hours, from what she could tell, and appeared to become active only when she herself was logged in. She went off duty after sending a carefully worded message to Gaila calling upon the Orion woman's skill as a programmer, and though Gaila told only those who needed to know, as a hacker.

Spock considered appropriate actions. No obvious threat to the _Enterp_ _rise_ remained; therefore it was now acceptable to think about recreational and personal activities. Engineer Scott had asked Spock to join him, Nyota, and others for a quasi-social gathering, a 'coffee break', after their shifts ended. Nyota usually enjoyed casual socializing with colleagues. Why did she now make herself late?

As First Officer, he had the right to command her to alter her schedule and to participate in stress-reducing activities. Nyota eagerly worked for the common good, yes. She took directions, true. Demands...no, she pushed back quietly and firmly. He could not force her to relax.

He could, however, be very persuasive.

* * *

Thank you very much for reading, and for following this story!

 

 _Kiswahili proverb source:_ Wikiquote, "Methali za Kiswahil"

 _Vulcan philosophy/Quotations of Surak:_ Star Trek Online Geekipedia/ Vulcan Language Institute Reclamation Project


	10. Even for Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:
> 
> Adun = husband
> 
> Adun'a = wife
> 
> Ashayam=beloved.
> 
> ka'thyra / kaathyra = Vulcan lyre
> 
> Moi loma = Good evening
> 
> Okosu=honorific – form of address for women
> 
> Opidsu = Lord. Formal address for a man.
> 
> tal-kam = dear one

The days are too short even for love; how can there be time for quarreling?

 _Margaret Gatty, as quoted in_ The Sun, April 2011

 

* * *

 **_Early evening, eighteen hours before space dock_ **

**_Nyota and Spock's adjoined quarters, the Enterprise_ **

Spock mentally reviewed the bridge crew's schedule. Six hours off, then four hours on duty, four hours for rest, then four hours until space dock. Thirty minutes of that time he'd already given to the coffee break organized by Mr. Scott. Nyota had also attended, but she appeared distracted and had consumed far too much replicated coffee before he gave her a concerned look, causing her to switch to water before she left the gathering early.

Unsettled, Spock stood in the central room of the quarters he shared with Nyota and rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He remembered the rise and fall of her voice, responding to him during their most recent coupling, voicing her pleasure and telling him how precious he was to her. Simple calculations reminded him that less than two weeks had passed, but in an abstract sense it felt too long.

He heard sounds from behind the connecting door between their quarters. No greeting? His father Sarek had advised him that allowing one's mate physical and mental privacy strengthened a marriage. Spock respected Nyota's need for private time and agreed to have the connecting door installed at Nyota's request. Now Spock felt his ambivalence about the door changing into disagreement.

Spock undressed and pulled on a loose robe. He pulled a packet of particularly aromatic tea from his storage trunk, set a small container of massage cream on the bedside shelf, selected and programmed music files of calming, sensual _ka'thyra_ and kora duets. The bedsheets were standard Starfleet issue, but they were clean and would feel fresh and smooth against her skin. He opened his side of their mental bond, making himself approachable.

Spock waited, busying himself with administrative work. Nearly half an hour passed. Surely she had changed clothes, washed, checked messages by now. Unwilling to wait longer, he strode across the room to the connecting door.

Nyota's quiet response to his knock, inviting him in, sounded soft even to his keen Vulcan hearing.

 

" _Adun'a_ , _moi loma_. Are you well?" Spock tried not to frown as he looked at her.

 

Clad in an old Starfleet t-shirt, she sat on the smaller bed in her room, two padds beside her. " _Moi loma_ , sweetheart. I was just about to come in and see you, to ask how _your_ day went."

 

"Is there any logical reason that this work cannot wait until you return to the Bridge before space dock?"

 

"I just need to be sure I've reviewed everything."

 

"Nyota, you are not the only crew member engaged in such procedures. Others maintain the required communications status even now. You cannot do all of the work by yourself."

 

"I know. I just can't leave it alone."

 

"There is no reason to leave _us_ alone. I do not wish to seem a complaining husband, but your company would be agreeable." He stopped, wondering if he sounded petulant, and changed his tone, allowing his voice become soft and deep. " _Adun'a, y_ ou have not properly greeted me this evening, despite the fact that I have been in the same room with you for two minutes and nine seconds."

 

"What...oh. Honey, I'm sorry, I'm not myself." Though welcome, her kiss was too soft, too light, and her fingers felt cold against his. Spock pulled her closer to him, moving his hands down her shoulders and back.

 

"Your muscles are tight. Will you accept a massage?"

 

"Mmm, how sweet of you. I would love that. I'm so tired."

 

He rubbed his cheek against hers and kissed her neck. "Perhaps my efforts will revive you. If not, I will appreciate your presence in our bed, if only for a few hours." He looked at her. "Did you truly intend to sleep alone in here?"

 

"Maybe. I need a nap, but I wanted to work, and be ready for the space dock...I don't know. I'm too worried and tired to be normal this week, whatever normal means on a starship."

 

"Allow me to help, _tal-kam_." Spock easily lifted her into his arms to carry her into their shared bedroom, making a small show of his strength.

 

He listened to her discuss the impending space dock and visit to the surface of Alpha Cachette while he brewed the tea, responding with reassuring comments about the professionalism of the crew. He distracted her by brushing her wrist with his fingers as he placed her cup on the table before her. The soothing music turned her conversation to light topics. He teased her, quoting a line of poetry; she smiled and quoted a line back. Still, she did not touch him.

"May I rub your back now?" he finally asked, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

She smiled, her fatigue vanishing for a moment. "Yes, please do. But I can't promise you anything."

"I want to please both of us; it is not a transaction," he sighed as she pulled off her shirt and stretched out nude on the bed. He held a small pool of massage lotion in his palm, warming it with his body heat, and then rubbed it into her arms, legs, and back.

"That feels so good..." She moaned, pressing her hips against the bed. Spock closed his eyes for a moment, counted to five, and kept himself under control. "I owe you one, sweetheart," she murmured happily.

"Whatever you determine that 'one' to be, I believe that I will like it. I crave touch," he admitted. "I am able to manage separation from you during work hours. It is difficult to accept the idea of you sleeping on the other side of that wall when we could have skin contact and soothe one another instead. Read your padd in bed, work instead of sleeping, do what you like. I only request that you do so in my company at least occasionally."

"I wasn't thinking. I've missed you these past few days. I should take better care of my bondmate."

"Nyota, please do not interpret my actions as reasons to be anxious or to feel guilty. Simply accept what I give you."

Warm, content, her muscles loose from the massage, Nyota summoned her remaining strength and embraced Spock as they lay facing one another.

"Thank you," she whispered. She rested one leg over his hip; his penis, half-hard, moved against the smooth skin of her inner thigh. "Ooh, nice. You're ready."

"I know that you are not, so we will wait. Having my bondmate fall asleep while I attempt lovemaking reflects badly upon my erotic abilities," he said dryly. "Even the least egotistical Vulcan would be driven to self-examination and reflection."

She smiled and stroked the patterns of hair on his chest. "Sweetheart, you know that I always want you. We could try..."

" _Ashayam_ , your eyes are closing."

"But..."

Little puffs of air blew across his chest as she exhaled. Spock sighed. _Patience._

"Computer, lights and music off. Adjust room temperature to sleep setting."

…

 **_Twelve years earlier_ **

**_Summer, New Nairobi, the United States of Africa_ **

**_  
_ **

No matter how much a well-behaved girl child of the Uhura family adored her parents, certain subjects were more easily discussed with a beloved, impartial Aunt. Nyota slipped away from the conference hotel and made her way by electric jitney van to the eclectic, vaguely respectable Garden District where her Auntie 'Chelle kept a flat – one of a few that the elegant, highly educated woman kept in a few different locations on Earth. The Uhuras were attending and presenting at a conference scheduled during a period when Auntie 'Chelle was in town, and brought their daughters along to make it a family visit.

Several young men from well-connected families were also present at the conference, and a few made inquires about her plans for the future. Nyota responded that she intended to finish school, then attend university...the rest, she kept to herself. Not even her parents knew yet.

Thankfully, they trusted Nyota enough to let her maintain a private computing tablet. They saw her use it for schoolwork. Sometimes she felt guilt for betraying their trust when she used the tablet alone in her bedroom. She changed the file names of romance novels hidden inside blandly named folders on the device. Alone, she read about women who enjoyed sex, women who theorized about sex, women who created their own erotic literature, art, and films. Quickly, she learned what made her uncomfortable or frightened and what appealed to her enough to wish she could do it with someone else. Nyota also used her tablet to research a future, one that did not – as far as she could tell – involve sex or love for anything else but a career.

The Garden District was safe enough for a teenage girl to travel through alone in the daytime; sociable residents stared through their windows at Nyota as she passed by, some nodding greetings which she returned. Auntie 'Chelle traveled abroad frequently – Nyota often thought that she didn't really live in any one place at all - but the sophisticated woman enjoyed this eclectic part of the city so much that she'd purchased a flat there before prices and buildings crept skyward.

Perhaps it would have been wise to call ahead, but Nyota guessed that Auntie 'Chelle might be home during the hottest part of the day. She imagined the older woman wearing a long, loose dress, drinking cold red hibiscus tea, working on her memoirs and a consulting project.

Mrs. Uhura had clear plans for her daughter – all for Nyota's own good, even though she didn't know it yet. University – yes! Career – yes! A husband, stable home and grandchildren for the Uhuras – absolutely!

"Things haven't changed enough for women in some ways," Mama Uhura sighed during conversations with friends, unaware of Nyota's eavesdropping. "Girls are so much easier to match up when they aren't distracted by things like downloading space travel videos. I should know – if I hadn't been lucky to meet her father at university myself...oh! The girl pestered her father and uncles to teach her basic electronics when she was no more than eight, for goodness sakes! I want her to learn as much as she can, but also how to deal properly with men. You _must_ make a man feel useful, and in charge of something."

Nyota wondered why she and a nice man could not work on electronics and think about things _together_. They might repair or make something at their home. It could be fun! But Nyota accepted that this was one more thing to understand "when you're older".

Reaching her Auntie 'Chelle's building, Nyota slipped through the front door behind an entering resident, bypassing the palm scan at the front entrance. She groaned as she saw the OUT OF ORDER sign attached to the lift. Her cotton-and-plant-fiber dress stuck to her back and humid air flowed through breeze blocks high in the walls. A four-flight walk upstairs awaited her.

No problem, she'd manage. She hoped that Auntie 'Chelle was not out of red hibiscus tea. Visualizing a tall, cold glass of luscious red tea with drops of condensation rolling down its sides, Nyota made her way up the stairs, hearing the footsteps of some other unlucky visitor or resident preceding her.

One flight below her aunt's floor, Nyota heard a door open and then a familiar, melodic voice.

 

" _Karibu mpenzi_ (Welcome, my darling)." Nyota froze in mid-step. The sultry pitch of her Aunt's voice made it clear that the greeting was _not_ for her.

 

The low, resonant voice she heard next further clarified the situation.

 

"At last I am with you again, my beautiful one," came the response in Standard language."It has been too long."

 

"Twenty-four hours! You flatter me."

 

"A few hours each afternoon are not enough. I dreamed of you. I would rather have been next to you while I dreamt."

 

"Darling, you know that I've got family visiting this week, and they come here in the evenings. Until you're ready to meet them...we'll pursue our afternoon delights."

 

"I take our relationship seriously," the other voice said gently, "but I was uncertain whether you -"

 

"Shh, let's talk inside. Even the hallways in this building are full of ears."

 

The door shut, and Nyota sat down on a step. She didn't relish walking back to the conference hotel in the heat, but she was also burning with curiosity. _And to think that Mama worries that Auntie 'Chelle will tell me more about information science than how to deal with men!_ Her Aunt's hair was an elegant silver now, her skin still soft, her personality warm and engaging. _Obviously age has only made her better at dealing with them, if she still has men claiming to dream of her, and coming over here every afternoon to..._

 _  
_

Abruptly, Nyota stood up and hurried downstairs. Nobody wanted to hear their parents or relatives during their intimate moments, and she had no idea how well the soundproofing worked in this old building.

 

 

Later that day, Nyota's tablet and phone chimed simultaneously. Her Aunt wanted to speak with her at her earliest convenience – alone.

Sheepishly, Nyota made an excuse to her parents, claiming that Auntie 'Chelle wanted to show her some dress patterns. Delighted that her athletic, studious daughter had suddenly developed an interest in fashion beyond earrings, Mrs. Uhura smilingly put Nyota into a cab headed to the Garden District.

"Nyota, the security cameras on my home system showed me that you came upstairs this afternoon." "Uh, yes, Auntie." Nyota cast a sideways glance at her aunt's silver-polished fingernails, unable to make eye contact, then blurted out, "I'm sorry I didn't call you first! I wanted to talk with you about something private. The lift was broken so I walked upstairs, and as I came near your floor I heard you...talking with someone. I was embarrassed because it sounded, uh, private so I just turned around and left. I didn't really _see_ ," she added hastily. "I don't think your...visitor saw me either. I'm sorry, Auntie. I didn't mean any harm and I didn't tell anyone."

 

Her Aunt looked both amused and tired. "There's nothing to hide, really, but it's probably better that you didn't say anything...as much as I love my family, I know that not everyone understands certain things."

 

She patted Nyota's shoulder. "Don't feel ashamed. Someone I've known for a long time visits me when...when we enter the same orbit, one might say. Not everyone understands how to love when they're young. Remember that, my girl. Don't get impatient if you haven't snared the perfect husband by your twentieth birthday. If he's also twenty, he may not know enough about life or himself to make a durable husband anyway. Marriage or companionship are good things, but you must work hard to listen to the other person, let them know they are truly cared for. Make time to show them you want to be with them."

 

She sighed, looking out the window at the flow of people and vehicles. "Never let anyone tell you that older women don't need love, or attention."

"Uh...when do older women stop...you know...having intimate relations?" Nyota asked.

Auntie 'Chelle's gracefully arched eyebrows raised.

"I don't know," she replied, with a sly half-smile. "I'll let you know when I stop doing it."

Feeling her face grow hot as she stifled a laugh, Nyota turned her gaze to the skyline.

"What was the private conversation you wanted to have with me?" Auntie 'Chelle asked, mercifully changing the subject. Relieved, Nyota looked into her aunt's eyes and smiled. "For a long time now, I've been thinking about what I want to do after completing school here. I know that Mama wants me to marry after university and working for a while, but...I'm not sure I know how to be married to anyone yet. I want to apply to Starfleet."

...

 

 **_Late afternoon_ **

**_Aboard the Enterprise_ **

Earlier that day, Serranstivlen stripped down to a pair of shorts and a thin T-shirt and exercised in the gym for some time, working off his excess energy. A few humans stealthily watched him. He began conversations with them, most of which were agreeable.

A few of them made personal advances. Serranstivlen had understood Spock's veiled warning clearly. He sought no permanent bond with anyone aboard, but he did not want to be treated as an entertaining curiosity. Although he was sexually attracted to a variety of beings, hearing humans speak the phrase _I've never had one of you before_ had the emotional impact of a bucket of cold, dirty water thrown onto his sexual desire. Without displaying anger, Serranstivlen rejected the offers as politely as possible, drawing upon his knowledge of human holo or book narratives.

 

 _It is not you, it is me._

 _  
_

_I just need time off right now and can not do flings; it is nothing personal_.

 

The phrases didn't make complete sense to him, but they effectively cooled off the humans.

 

Later, he joined Donstelralth and Stelendos in exploring the ship's observation deck and library system. Lieutenant Sulu was very busy preparing for the space dock but kindly took ten minutes to show them the shipboard garden he had created.

 

There was a midday meal, shared with talkative humans. Some complained about a lack of chocolate in the replicators. Stelendos responded that he did not understand why such a powerful drug would be available for meals on a ship, which caused the human crew to laugh as though he had intentionally made a joke. The Vulcan apprentices exchanged a look with Donstelralth and dropped the subject.

 

Later, Donstelralth excused himself to meditate, leaving the apprentices under their own supervision. It would have been agreeable to volunteer their services somewhere, but the crew members seemed busy with their own assigned tasks and there was no work for the Vulcans to do, though they offered to help.

Fortunately, Stelendos said that Charlene – Serranstivlen wondered why his shy friend had stopped using the honorific _Okosu_ when discussing a woman of the ship, but perhaps he was making progress – of Engineering had shown him where the 'game rooms' were. A crewman explained the games to them and then excused himself, explaining that he must go 'on shift'. Left to themselves, the young Vulcans rotated through dozens of varieties and versions of games, playing at high speeds.

Now, as the apprentices took a break, Stelendos oddly insisted upon being addressed as 'Stelen'. A _nickname_ , he explained. Not that there was anything wrong with a perfectly good Vulcan name, but Charlene of Engineering and other friendly humans had begun to address him thus. Nicknames were not commonly used among diasporic Vulcans on his home planet, but culture was changing on New Vulcan. It was possible to interact with outsiders and remain Vulcan. _Opidsu_ Spock was commissioned to Starfleet and he was more Vulcan than either one of them in behavior and learning – despite his half-human bloodline.

 

"Serran, many on New Vulcan are already suspicious of us for enjoying human music and dancing. My use of a nickname will make little difference," Stelen said as he piloted a shuttle through a flight simulation.

"Why do you – I have not given you permission to address me thus. However I do not find it disagreeable. 'Serran'." He tried saying his shortened name a few times, then imagined the attractive Yeoman, who was now off-limits to him, murmuring it. "Agreed. Call me Serran. Nicknames can be agreeable, though they do not compare to Vulcan endearments."

"I wonder if _Okosu_ Uhura finds Vulcan endearments pleasing to the human ear," Stelen said thoughtfully.

"She is unlikely to wish to hear such endearments from _you_ , so that is an illogical question. You know that _Okosu_ Uhura speaks Vulcan fluently, and Donstelralth said she also read the Vulcan script in carvings inside our shop. Has Charlene of Engineering placed you in a trance, Stelen?"

"No more than the Yeoman bewitched you. Do not deny it; I say little but I see much." He slowed the shuttle down, preparing for a landing.

"I was informed by the Yeoman of a previous relationship," Serran muttered.

"Before or after?"

"After, and that is why I am here with you instead of renewing my acquaintance with the Yeoman. I made a mistake. Humans do not consistently make their intentions clear."

"It is best to spend time in conversation with a human first." Stelen guided the shuttle above the images of treetops. "They will sometimes answer questions before the questions are asked."

"You are an expert now? What have you asked Charlene of Engineering?"

"Not enough. I must prepare the appropriate questions." Stelen landed the shuttle in a clearing and ended the simulation program. "The evening meal is a few hours away. Perhaps I shall find an answer in meditation."

Serran shrugged and switched out of the program. "I will sharpen my tools and watch a holo until that time."

 

As the Vulcans left the game room, they noticed that the illuminated entry panel beside the door flickered. Curious, Serran tapped the touch interface. The door to the game room slid open, then closed, then open again.

"I could probably repair that, but not without permission. Instead we will inform the Enterprise crew," Serran said. As both Vulcans turned the corner, they saw a crewman hastily close a panel door set into the wall.

Charles Steap turned around and saw the two Vulcans staring at him, speaking in Vulcan. He rolled down his sleeves quickly, but the metal disk in his arm glinted under the corridor lights. Neither Vulcan blinked. _Maybe their eyes don't pick up such things._

 _  
_

"I remember this man from the gym; he addressed _Okosu_ Uhura improperly," Serran muttered.

"Yes, but he is part of the crew. We should inform him of the broken entry panel."

"What do you want?" Charles Steap said as the Vulcans approached him.

Stelen blinked. "Pardon us. We saw the door panel, there, not operating properly." He did not approve of this man, but it was necessary to remember that he was with Starfleet, while Stelen himself was only a guest. "Please tell us, how do we report this problem?"

Steap visibly relaxed. "Oh, I'm the right person. I'll take care of it. You don't need to tell anyone else." He looked up at Serran, who stood silently, arms crossed.

"I do not talk much of your language. All is well," Serran said in laboriously accented Standard.

"Yeah, all right. I was just fixing that problem. Thanks guys. Goodbye." Steap stared at them until the Vulcans nodded and walked away.

Stelen lowered his voice and spoke in a colloquial variant of Vulcan. "You spoke an untruth. Your spoken and written Standard are much better than mine. What game do you play?"

"I do not trust that man. He may have spoken an untruth to _you,_ although I cannot prove it. I am willing to let him believe that I understand little of what he says. We will tell someone else what we saw. I regret not asking his name." Serran looked back, but Ensign Steap was gone. "I will remind you, Stelen: my Standard speech fluency score was tabulated at nine hundred and ninety-eight. That is not perfection. I did not lie."

 

"Serran, you believe yourself clever. We will find Spock, or the Captain if necessary."

 

…

 **_Aboard the Enterprise – personal quarters of Leonard McCoy_ **

**_Late afternoon – break period_ **

**_  
_ **

"How did I end up with a Vulcan for a rival?" Scotty wondered aloud. "What's he got that I haven't got?"

 

"Pointy ears and excessive strength?" Leonard McCoy drawled, withdrawing the replicator's version of "near beer" and pushing it across the table towards Scotty.

 

"Right, there _is_ that," Scotty muttered. "And being young and halfway good-lookin' helps, I suppose. But I do _not_ appreciate his poachin' on me turf, and I've a mind to let him know it."

 

"Slow down there, Scotty. Maybe Miss Masters doesn't consider herself your 'turf'. Have you actually told her you're interested?"

 

"Not in words, no, but I thought we had an understanding."

 

McCoy sighed heavily. "If there's one thing life as a doctor – a _divorced_ doctor – has taught me, it's that two people seldom understand one thing the same way."

 

Frowning, Scotty crossed his arms. "Engineers solve problems. Charlene wants clarity? She'll get it."

 

"Y'all keep things peaceful, hear? Don't bring any bloody noses or duelling wounds into my Sickbay."

 

"Eh?" Scotty blinked at him. "I've no need for violence. Doctor, you Southerners dinna have a monopoly on charm. Scots can match ye word for word in sweet talk."

 

Laughing, McCoy poured a glass of near beer for himself. "Yeah? And whatcha gonna do if Miss Masters is more interested in actions, not words?"

 

"Private walks on the observation deck. My connections will supply me with chocolates, flowers, silk scarves, lady's things...or stylish hi-tech gadgets, more Charlene's taste. If I have to bring out the big guns, I'll find an excuse to wear me kilt at a formal occasion. Never failed me yet. I show my legs and the ladies tremble. Not from horror, usually."

 

McCoy raised his glass. "A toast to your pursuit. Good luck, Mr. Scott."

 

"Thanks, Doctor. Should I wish you luck as well?"

 

"Naw. 'S been a long period of involuntary celibacy for me. My 'Southern Charm' is broke and I cain't fix it. I probably couldn't sell ice water in hell, let alone myself."

 

"Dinna be such a pessimist. Try, fail, try again, fail again, fail better. If your failin' you're tryin'. Here's to unctuous charm and good intentions with lovely prospects."

 

The men clinked their glasses, and sipped the gleaming amber liquid.

* * *

Next chapter: Nyota asks herself what it means to be brave; space dock; and sabotage ain't all it's cracked up to be.

Thanks very much for reading!


	11. If You Don't Fill a Crack...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:
> 
> Ashayam=beloved.
> 
> Okosu=honorific – form of address for women
> 
> Osasu = honorific - polite form of address for a man.
> 
> Opidsu = Lord. Formal address for a man.
> 
> Osavensu= honored teacher.

**Osmosis – a STXI fanfic**

**Chapter 11: If you don't fill a crack, you will build a wall**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and do not profit from depictions of them.

_Usipoziba ufa, utajenga ukuta._ (Swahili proverb)

Idiomatic Translation: If you don't fill a crack, you will build a wall /If you ignore a small problem now it will only turn into a bigger problem later.

****

**_Captain James T. Kirk’s Ready Room, the Enterprise_ **

 

Vulcan earnestness could really warm a guy’s heart, Jim Kirk thought.  The two Vulcans first approached his quarters, unaware of the bridge crew’s staggered rest and duty schedule before space dock then booked an appointment with a Yeoman to speak to him. 

 

Spock had the same unsmiling sincerity. The First Officer cared as much about the fate of the crew as Jim did, just more quietly.  At one time Jim believed the earnestness came from Spock’s human parentage.  As he encountered other Vulcans during the mission he changed his mind; the taciturn beings simply managed emotions differently.  Jim couldn’t imagine one of them screaming across a kitchen table the way his stepfather or cousins would, or even cutting somebody else off in traffic. 

 

Stelen, the shorter apprentice, chose his words carefully, a challenge for someone not completely fluent in Standard. “Please to understand, Captain.  I say not that this man is bad, but he... is aggressive in manner.  The way he talked in the corridor, was like he did not want us to look at panel or ask questions.” 

 

The taller Vulcan, Serran, leaned forward, speaking the language more comfortably. “If our impressions are wrong then we apologize.  Both of us only want the _Enterprise_ crew to be safe.”

 

“I know that your concerns are sincere. I greatly appreciated the hours you both put into the ship search, so I can understand why you’d feel cautious. There’s probably a reasonable explanation; I’ll speak to Ensign Steap about this.  Are you concerned about anything else, gentlemen?”

 

The Vulcans exchanged a glance – more of a rapid, simultaneous eye blink.

 

A moment of hesitation, and then Serran shook his head slowly, as though still growing accustomed to the human body language.

 

“Not at this time, Captain,” Serran replied cryptically.  “Thank you for listening to us.”

 

 

 

As they left, Stelen spoke quietly in Vulcan.  “Perhaps it was a mistake not to mention the rude treatment of _Okosu_ Uhura by Ensign Steap in the gym.  Obviously no one else has told the Captain.”

 

“I wanted to tell him; however, I heard her tell Ensign Chekov that she would speak to Steap privately.  If the problem persisted she would speak to Command.  The Captain does not seem to know, so it appears likely that she resolved the situation.” Serran frowned, perplexed.  “I do not completely understand, although I admire her attempt to avoid further conflict.”

 

Stelen said, “Our course of action is simple.  We shall repay the Enterprise crew for rescuing us from Algid-17.  We shall observe Ensign Steap and collect useful evidence; if his actions are indeed _spa’ash_ (bad), we will report him to the Enterprise men in red shirts, or take him to the Captain ourselves.”

 

“But we shall part ways with them after we land on Alpha Cachette,” Serran reminded him.

 

“Donstelralth will never refuse the opportunity to purchase aesthetically pleasing, exotic wood and materials.  He is also fond of _Okosu_ Uhura.  I shall remind him that Alpha Cachette is famous for its natural materials.  _You_ will suggest that _Opidsu_ Spock and _Okosu_ Uhura, as well as the entire crew, may be in some danger if Ensign Steap does not discuss the reasons for his strange behavior.  _Osavensu (honored teacher)_ Donstelralth also enjoys social activity with humans.  He will agree to a few more days of contact with the _Enterprise_ crew.” 

 

Stelen allowed a small, confident smile to show on his face.

 

…

 

**_Spock and Nyota’s shared quarters, the Enterprise_ **

**_Rest Period #1_ **

****

Spock awoke to discover that Nyota had rolled out of their embrace in her sleep.  She slept apart from him, not touching as usual. He lowered the barrier between their minds and found her anxious; although he could not see her dreams he sensed that she worried about _him_.  

 

Barely one hour remained before the alarm went off to alert them to prepare for their next staggered duty shift.  He would not waste it.  Spock reached across the bed and pulled her back against the solid warmth of his body. 

 

…

 

**_Corridor leading to the Enterprise Bridge_ **

 

As the metal disk in his arm alternately vibrated and itched, and the skin surrounding it grew dry and puffy, Charles Steap suspected that the aliens were toying with him.  Apparently he’d annoyed them by expressing impatience in his latest message to them, stating that he had yet to see an additional deposit recorded in his hidden financial account.  They’d ordered him to wait until the Enterprise crew landed on Alpha Cachette, but Steap felt that he’d already done his job by sending them the ship plans he’d stolen, and he shouldn’t have to take orders any longer. 

 

Steap rushed to Sickbay before his shift and put on his friendliest manner, convincing the nurse on duty to give him a tube of cortisone cream without describing his real symptoms or showing her his arm. He winked, claimed that he’d have to remove his trousers to show her a patch of dry skin, and anyway he was due on shift soon. The act won her over, and she handed him the cream with a cheerful get-well wish. 

 

Luckily, the turbo lift was empty and he pushed up his sleeve and rubbed the cream in without anyone to voice concern or questions.  Sighing in relief, he exited the turbo lift and nearly collided with Captain Kirk.

 

“Ensign Steap, I was looking for you.  Step over here, please; I have a question for you.”

 

Steap froze, and then quickly assumed the easygoing persona he’d used in Sickbay.  “Of course, Captain.  Please, tell me what I can do.” 

 

Shows of humility made those in high places feel comfortable.  Jim Kirk wasn’t on his level, despite Kirk’s dead father’s high status within Starfleet.  Rumor had it that Kirk’s background was more than a little rough: a country boy with a streetwise record of petty misbehavior.  Somehow he’d made enough friends to get into Starfleet.  Really, their positions should have been reversed.

 

Captain Kirk was disgustingly self-assured and friendly as usual.  “Ensign, thanks for being considerate, but you know that you don’t have to take it upon yourself to make repairs to something as minor as the door operations panel to the game room.  Just call it in if you see a door malfunctioning.”

 

 

Those damned Vulcans had just had to tell someone. Despite their supposed dislike of humans, they paid close attention to what humans did.  Fortunately, the lie came to Charles easily.  “Just trying to save ‘em some work, Captain.  Everyone put so much energy into the ship wide search for the drone.  The door seemed like a small thing and I thought I’d take a look at it since I happened to be there.  I hope nobody misunderstood and thought I made the problem worse by trying to fix it.” 

 

  1. He’d given up on getting the attention he wanted from Starfleet; by the time he was reported missing, he’d be relaxing on a ship with false registration, flying out of the JoBakair planetary system. 



 

Jim’s hand patting his shoulder was warm and heavy.  Steap remembered hearing that Kirk could, and _would_ , fight dirty – crotch, knees, kidneys, eyes -- under duress, although such street technique wasn’t openly encouraged in Starfleet. 

 

“That’s good of you, Steap.  I thought that it might be something like that.  It’s important that we maintain a record of all ship maintenance, no matter how small it seems, so next time, please report it.”

 

“I’ll do that.  Thank you.”  The Captain was probably going to make some record of this little conversation too, unfortunately.  The sooner he got away from Starfleet, the better.

 

“You’re a good man, Steap.  I hear that surfing’s popular on Alpha Cachette.  Maybe we can all go to the beach once we’re planetside.”

 

Steap’s jaw tightened, but he smiled and promised to consider a surfing demonstration for his crewmates. 

 

Why hadn’t this relaxed familiarity happened months ago between him and the Captain, before Steap assumed that no rapid promotion was forthcoming?  If only it hadn’t taken Kirk so long, that juicy deal the aliens offered wouldn’t have been so appealing. 

…

**_Engineering, the Enterprise_ **

 

Scotty knew it was cruel to make the young Vulcan squirm, especially when the lad had no idea why the Chief Engineer was displeased with him.  “What’s that, lad?  Ye want scrap metal and bits of things lyin’ aboot?  Whatever for?”

 

Puzzled, Stelen tried to rephrase his speech.  “What I intend to say, _Osasu_ Scott, is I want only small piece of metal for sculpture I make.”  He hesitated, and then plunged ahead.  Sometimes humans relaxed when you mentioned your personal interests or thoughts.  “It is surprise for nice woman aboard _Enterprise_ , and I want to finish before we go on Alpha Cachette.”

 

Alarmingly, Engineer Scott’s face turned red below his red hair.  Stelen’s eyes widened.

 

 _Calm down, Montgomery.  This fella probably doesn’t understand about human courtship and women, and there’s no way he could know about me and Charlene. A good word is as easily said as an ill one_.

 

“Right, lad, let’s look in the closet here.”  Scotty opened the door, revealing boxes crammed with odd parts and pieces.  “If it’s an industrial look yer going for, you’ll find something useful here.  Have at it.”

 

Stelen rummaged through a box and pulled out a small curved piece cast from a purplish alloy.  “This piece very visually appealing.”

 

“What’s the name of this ‘nice woman’, if I may ask?” Scotty asked in a casual tone of voice.

 

“ _Okosu_ Charlene Masters – she say call her just Charlene.  She is kind to me here on ship. I want to say thank you by making small sculpture for her.  I have traveled to Earth in the past but it is different to be on a starship with many humans.”

 

“I see,” Scotty said.  Maybe the Vulcan didn’t intend anything more than to thank Charlene for making him welcome. 

 

“She is also visually appealing,” Stelen said quietly, continuing to rummage through the boxes. 

 

“Hmm.  One might say that, yes.  It may be possible that she already has suitors, you know.”

 

Stelen turned and looked at Scotty.  “But she is not bonded.”

 

 _This lad’s too green to take a hint._ “No, not like Miss Uhura, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t chosen someone or even that she has.”

 

  1. “Goodbye.”



 

 _What the hell?_   Scotty turned to his computer and checked his private inventory listing items both difficult to obtain and highly desirable.  Tea, chocolate…dried fruit and nuts…no, he couldn’t buy her affection.  He remembered how comfortable she’d been with him when they were alone on the observation deck.  Spending time with her, offering her attention – that was the path to follow.

 

“Just wait until we’re planetside, Charlene,” he sighed.  “I havena lost my touch with ladies completely.  The biggest horse is no aye the best traiveller.”

 

…

****

**_The Bridge – The Enterprise_ **

**_Schedule: Four-hour shift preceding rest period #2 before space dock_ **

 

 

The duty shift following that rest period would be intense – first space dock, then non-emergency evacuation of the ship, then shuttle and beaming transport down to the surface of Alpha Cachette.  Spock might be so focused on the event that he would decline his rest period entirely, remaining on the bridge.  She was just as excited about the process, but she hoped they could find a moment to talk.

 

 

Two personal messages from Gaila awaited her.  Nyota decrypted the first message.

 

_Greetings, Lieutenant Uhura.  Confirming Starfleet approval granted for brief technological consultation regarding possible minor security/network breach as described in your previous message.  Consultation will be conducted during scheduled space dock in presence of Security.  Expected resolution before crew return._

 

Nyota moved the second message into her personal directory and decrypted it.

 

_Greetings Dollface,_

_Have received Starfleet approval to examine the network/file problem you told me about. My current assignments required me to be at Starbase 231 anyway. Glad as always to help you and the_ Enterprise _, certain occupants of the Captain’s chair notwithstanding (it’s all right now, J. apologized and I moved on a loooong time ago)._

_Plan: we’ll meet while you’re at Starbase 231 and I’ll go aboard with Starfleet security to examine the_ Enterprise _networks – I suspect there’s minor hacking involved from your description.  Once it’s all resolved I’ve got off-duty ideas! Good shopping on Alpha Cachette and it’s a friendly land for ladies because of the vulva worship thing. Of course I know you don’t want anyone worshipping yrs except your man, ha ha.  What I mean is that the locals treat us wimmenz well here, I like it.  Excited about seeing you.  Did you know yr mother sent me a birthday greeting?  She’s a sweetie.  Best wishes to all the crew, yr kind family, yr scary steady husband.  Big kiss, Gaila_

 

 

 

The prospect of seeing her friend and former roommate again made Nyota happy.  If only the Enterprise crew could get through all of this safely.  The space dock held risks or accident, damage, even disaster, but she trusted Sulu’s navigational skills and the safety of the Starfleet shuttles that would take the crew down to the planet’s surface. 

 

No known hostilities against Starfleet personnel had ever been reported from Alpha Cachette.  All _Enterprise_ crew now knew about the planet’s past history of venerating women’s bodies, but even the younger crew displayed remarkable maturity; she hadn’t overheard crude jokes in the cafeteria or gym.  Some single crewmembers sported neat new haircuts or gleaming new coats of fingernail polish on short, rounded fingernails – anticipating vulva contact with friendly locals literally, perhaps, but that was their business.  All everyone had to do was behave themselves during their brief shore leave, be reassured that the _Enterprise_ was safely mission-ready, and resume the five-year mission, as calmly and bravely as expected. 

 

A remote image of the space dock appeared on the broad view screen of the bridge.

 

 “Nice,” Sulu said, a bit breathlessly. 

 

Excited crew members leaned forward; Nyota’s gaze moved over the image of the massive structure.  The main part of the dock was comprised of a series of massive segments forming an open, cage like shape; banks of lights gleamed along the sides.  Along the space dock’s bow and stern, a series of stations with airlocks provided areas for crew to disembark from ships, work, and live. 

 

 

 

Perhaps, with a bit of hope and effort, she and Spock might travel the same emotional orbit together again.

 

 

…

 

**_Inside the Vulcans’ guest quarters_ **

 

Donstelralth gazed longingly at the array of finely grained and beautifully patterned wood and fibrous materials displayed on the computer screen. His apprentice Stelendos repeatedly entered additional search terms for wholesale shopping options on Alpha Cachette,  finding tempting new images of wonderful things to buy.  Already the artisan imagined buying materials in the planet’s warehouses and carving beautiful, profitable new pieces for his shop on New Vulcan.

 

“There was a time when only Vulcan materials would do, but now we must accustom ourselves to the idea of shaping foreign materials with a Vulcan cultural touch.”  He turned off the screen and faced the apprentices, who watched him expectantly.  “All right, young ones, we shall stay longer than I planned.  I must remind you, Serranstivlen, it is no more acceptable to listen to the private conversations of humans than it is to listen to Vulcan ones.  If Captain Kirk learns that you ‘ _eavesdropped’_ on his discussion with the man Steap, he may be less willing to trust both of you in future.”

 

Serran shrugged his broad shoulders. “I suspect that the man Steap did not speak truthfully to the Captain; that is why I listened.”

 

“Can you prove that he plots against the _Enterprise_?” Donstelralth raised both eyebrows.

 

“Not yet,” Serran replied.  “However, his behavior suggests that he wishes to conceal something.”

 

“Humans differ from us because they do not control their emotions, Serranstivlen,” Donstelralth said patiently.

 

“Please, _Osavensu,_ call me by my ‘nickname’,” Serran asked.

 

Donstelralth rolled his eyes.  “As I was saying, _Serranstivlen_ , do not be too quick to judge, even if a human is unpleasant to you; what is normal for them may appear suspicious to we Vulcans.”

 

 

…

 

 

**_Inside Spock and Nyota’s shared quarters_ **

**_Rest period, pre-space dock_ **

****

Opportunities were meant to be pursued.  Spock's attention strayed from the dense language of the scientific journal open on his padd.  Slim, cool fingers stroked his chest, played with the hair there, slid back up to stroke the length of his clavicle.  The hem of Nyota's soft, peach-colored nightgown rode high on her thighs.  Her lips pressed delicate kisses against his neck, and then parted as she delivered a love bite, making his heart pound in his side. 

 

Groaning, Spock realized how completely illogical it was to continue reading a science journal when his bondmate lay beside him wearing approximately 1.8 meters of fabric and touching him in an amorous manner.  With a quick tap, he shut down his padd and put it aside. 

 

She smiled up at him.  “I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever get your attention.  Maybe next time I should write article abstracts on myself with chocolate body paint, and ask you to read me with your mouth.”

 

Spock only looked thoughtful.  “An absurd, but agreeable proposal.  I would give such abstracts my full attention.”  He lifted two fingers and pressed them against hers; she sighed happily. 

 

“Let me unwrap you?”  Nyota's hands moved over the knotted closure of the Vulcan robe he wore, a casual garment meant for comfortable wear at home.  Spock was irresistible in dark colors: long and tall, his muscles starkly outlined.  A memory of the powerful attraction she'd felt upon her first sight of him in his charcoal gray instructor's uniform flickered through Nyota's thoughts, followed by the handsome, dark-robed reality now before her.  It was impossible to say which she liked best.  In the instructor's uniform he was professional, forbidden, enticing.  She felt an equally intense, different excitement in knowing that he was accessible to her, naked under his robes, allowing her to see him dressed in clothing few other beings saw.  As his hands caressed her legs she sensed his desire for her and his approval of the brief nightgown.

 

Spock moved to give her access to the cord, and she untied it.  Their bodies moved together, pausing for kisses and shifting of weight as Nyota pulled the robe clear of Spock's body in stages.  She fell upon him, licking and biting the places she uncovered, until Spock growled, “ _Slower,”_ and moved above her on his hands and knees, taking over the kisses and love bites.  He dragged her nightgown straps down with his teeth, baring her skin to the heated air between them.  Teasing her, he touched, tasted, squeezed.  Nyota moaned and gasped, trying not to hyperventilate. 

 

Spock's fingers slowed on one breast, pressed, moved gently.  Nyota continued to respond with pleasure until she saw the slight frown on his face.

 

“ _Ra_ (what)?...” he murmured. 

 

“Honey? What's wrong?”

 

Spock took her hand, placed his fingers atop hers, and then moved Nyota's fingers over the area he'd just touched.

 

“Nyota, _tal-kam_ , I felt a lump here.  Do you feel it?”

 

Nyota carefully moved her fingers over the place and felt one solid mass, then another. 

 

A cold feeling hit her in the gut.  She stared at the ceiling as though it held projected images of the moment she'd bonded with Spock, their small apartment in San Francisco, their idyll on New Vulcan, her family, Sarek, the faces of her _Ent_ erprise friends and colleagues. 

 

“Nyota.”  Spock reached for her across their mental bond, interrupting the flow of images, sending her feelings of calm, reassurance, love.  He attempted to stifle his own fear, but she recognized it.

 

She sat up and breathed through her mouth, drawing in lungfuls of air.  “No.  _No._ ”

 

Warm hands rested on her shoulders.  “There is some probability that the lumps are not what we think they are.”

 

 

“Spock, you remember what I told you about my Cousin Rose.”

 

Spock pulled her into his arms and leaned against the wall.  “I remember, _tal-kam._ I know that you still grieve the loss of one who loved you well. _”_ Her thoughts were still open to him.  Again, Spock witnessed her memories: an adolescent Nyota's attempts to comfort her weak but smiling aunt in a hospital, Nyota cleaning Cousin Rose's home while the woman recuperated following a recurrence of the disease, and then...

 

 _Rose wanted you to have this dress she made, Nyota.  She said that you always liked this shade of pink._   The dress lay folded in a drawer, the weeping girl unable to bring herself to wear it.

 

Spock rubbed Nyota's back.  “You spoke of your Cousin Rose with great affection.  She received the best treatment available to her under the circumstances and with the medical treatment existing at the time.  Your own circumstances are different.”

 

“I know what's in my health file, and what runs in my family too.  She wasn't even fifty-five years old.  Aunt Rose should have lived longer with the treatment she had, but the cancer spread so aggressively with each recurrence, and...those lumps scare me, Spock.”

 

“Do not worry, _ashayam_.”  He held her a little tighter. “The lumps may be benign.  Please do not distress yourself.  Dr McCoy goes on duty in two hours and thirty-two minutes.”

 

“No, I’ll wait. We’ve all got to be ready for the space dock and the journey planetside in a few hours!  This can’t distract anyone.”

 

Spock exhaled sharply in frustration.  “Your health is not a distraction.  As First Officer I admire your dedication, but Nyota, I am your husband.”

 

“I’m one person aboard a starship where dozens of people may be at greater risk.”  Her voice was soft, but he recognized her stubborn tone.

 

 “I disagree, but I will capitulate…this time.  Medical facilities are available to all Starfleet personnel at Starbase 231. I will speak with Leonard and request that he administer an imaging scan and discuss treatment options with us directly afterward.”

 

“Slow down Mister, I’m capable of arranging this myself.”

 

“Yes, but allow me to care for you.  This is an impressive display of bravery, Nyota, but it is unnecessary when we are alone together.  I cannot protect you from illness, but I want to fight it with you.” 

 

He felt her soften against him.  “Honey, I hoped that we could be together, then sleep and be ready for the space dock…”

 

One hand stroked down her back.  “Do you wish me to distract you?”

 

His fingers glided over the soft skin of her thighs, but her face was still shadowed with worry and he knew that she was not completely with him. He accepted it.  At the moment, maybe lovemaking wasn’t what either wanted; Spock felt it sufficient simply to be with her.  A mind meld would have allowed him to influence her thoughts, to calm her, but it did not seem right.  If there were ever a time when his Nyota wanted control over herself, this was it. 

 

 

Neither of them could really control anything, but he would try.  “I intend to be at your side when the results are announced and indeed during the entire examination procedure if you agree.”

 

  1. Having you with me for the results...that would really help.”  



 

“Agreed; I will wait until summoned, though you understand my illogical desire to lurk near the examination room door.  My brave, beloved Lieutenant,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  “I will do all possible to see you well.  You are not alone in this.” 

 

Nyota held him close, feeling grateful, if not happy.  _Shida haina hod (trouble doesn’t knock; you never know when it is going to show up)._ She’d learned the hard way to stand up for herself in classrooms, while running track, at Starfleet, in combat classes.  Life was never easy, anyway.  She was already dealing with fatigue, a mysterious, annoying hacker rearranging her file directory, a grumpy Ensign with some undeclared grudge against her, and her entire starship on the verge of review by Starfleet security.  At least she wasn’t facing it alone. 

 

Like so many women she knew, Nyota could be sweet-tempered, but stubborn.

 

Fighting something lurking in her cells might be difficult, but fight she would.

 

 

\--------------------------------

Thank you for reading!

And yes, cancer has been abolished in the 23rd century Trek 'verse, but hold on...no diagnosis yet...

Swahili proverbs source: Wikiquote.

Vulcan vocabulary words:  Vulcan Language Reclamation Project / Geekipedia.


	12. Every Closed Eye Ain't Asleep

Osmosis – a STXI S/U fanfic  
  
 **Chapter 12: Every Closed Eye Ain't Asleep**  
  
Disclaimer:  I do not own the characters, nor do I profit from depictions of them...unless someone enjoys the fic I write.  
…   
  
Every closed eye ain’t asleep and every goodbye ain’t gone.  
  
\- African American proverb, 19th - 21st centuries  
_________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Colorful, changing patterns of light reflected on Lt. Sulu’s face as he began the series of navigational maneuvers required to guide the Enterprise into space dock.  He breathed in, checked the controls and the viewfinder, and then breathed out.   
  
“Coordinates set.  Shift engines to low power.”  
  
Scotty’s voice sounded over the comm.  “Aye, Mr. Sulu.”  
  
Nyota heard the Enterprise’s familiar ambient engine noise slowing down as the ship approached the massive structure.  Like everyone else, she was accustomed to the calming sound; it was odd to hear it change.  
  
A hush fell throughout the ship as the crew and their Vulcan guests watched viewscreens displaying remote shots of the Enterprise, images taken from cameras mounted on the open, cage like sections of the space dock.  Spock stood calmly beside the Captain’s chair where Jim leaned forward, eyes wide, his attention focused as though he and his crew could guide the ship into dock safely through sheer will.   
  
Her thoughts clear, Nyota relayed a series of responses to the person working in a role similar to her own aboard the space dock linked to Starbase 231.  “Greetings, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura here.  Confirming contact.”  
  
“Greetings, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Latimer here on space dock, all confirmed. Welcome!  Our standard and emergency comm channels are open.”  
  
Tiny hairs stood up on the back of Nyota’s arms as the ship moved forward.  The bridge was silent except for occasional remarks from Sulu and her own voice, steadily relaying relevant comments over the ship wide comm.  “Docking process begun.  All crew, please stand by.”    
  
The Enterprise slowed down, gliding to a halt within the space between the embrace of the dock.  Airlocks moved into place, securing themselves to entrances on both sides with resonant thudding sounds, and the ship shook ever so slightly.  
  
Sulu smiled.  “Enterprise in place; docked.  Airlock process begun.”  Nyota’s gaze moved toward a panel concealing tanks of emergency oxygen and breathing apparatus.  Spock half-turned in her direction, making sure that he knew exactly where Nyota was, just in case.  Distant noises, and then:  
  
“All space dock crew have completed airlock procedure,” Lt. Latimer said. “All clear.  Begin crew transfer when ready.”  
  
Nyota repeated the message over the ship wide comm channel.  A whoosh of exhalations rushed through the tense air of the bridge.  Cheering voices echoed through the ship.  Nyota rose to her feet, exhilarated and relieved.  Spock met her gaze from across the room for a long moment before returning his attention to the viewscreen.  The Captain and Sulu shook hands, laughing, and then shouting compliments to Scotty and the Engineering crew over the comm.  Red-shirted Security officers moved through the halls, relaying crowd control directions.   
  
Fifty-eight minutes later, Spock kissed Nyota in the turbolift and smeared her lipstick. Her feet left the ground as he pulled her against him.  
  
“I’m just as glad as you are that the Enterprise docked safely,” she panted when he let her go, “but we’d better wait and disembark with the others.  Everyone will notice if the First Officer’s missing.”  
  
“Mmm,” he sighed. “Yeht (true).”  Carefully, he set her down on her feet.   “I am relieved that all of us are safe and that we are still together.”  
  
“Oh, sweetheart.”  She gently held his face between her hands. “I’m glad too.”  
  
The door slid open.  Nyota stepped away from him, and they moved into the corridor where officers and crew rushed past, carrying traveling bags and preparing to leave.  Spock brushed the back of Nyota’s hand with his fingertips and headed for the Vulcans’ guest quarters to ask if they had any questions.  
  
McCoy strode through the corridor, shouting at a few crewmembers.  “Slow down, people! Y’all know how to do an orderly evacuation, you learned it at Starfleet.  The space dock ain’t going anywhere and neither is Alpha Cachette.  We’ll all get there in good time.”  
  
“Len, can I talk to you for second?”  McCoy stopped and looked at Nyota.   Something about the expression on her face made him uneasy, and he pulled her into a quiet area near a bulkhead.  
  
“Everything all right, Uhura?”  
  
“I’m not sure, so I need to schedule an appointment with you in the medical facility on planet, please.  I’ll need a scan -- last night I realized I have two lumps, here --” she gestured toward her left breast.  “There wasn’t time to deal with it this morning because of the space dock, and anyway it isn’t an emergency.”   
  
“Aw, Ny.”  Leonard frowned, concerned.  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t wait too long.  You’ve delayed and rescheduled your required checkup three times already,” he scolded her gently.   
  
“Communications was busy these past two months. This probably isn’t a big deal.  I know that all cancers -- if that’s even what this is -- are treatable now.” Some worry about resistance to treatment lingered in her mind.  Nyota’s Cousin Rose had made many inpatient and outpatient visits for various treatments, only to see her cancer return, more than once. Treatable or not, Nyota did not look forward to the prospect of intensive medical treatment.    
  
“Nyota, if I recall correctly you’ve got a relevant family history of it, possibility of resistance to some treatments,” Len said, echoing her thoughts and surprising her with his memory of her situation.  “If it is indeed cancer there’s an ultrasound pulse treatment used to inhibit division of problematic cells, among other options.  I’ll arrange for you to have a scan done as soon as we’re settled in the spaceport town. Whatever the results are, I want you to take better care of yourself from now on, y’hear?”  
  
“Of course I will.  Thank you, Len.  I’ve just been busy and a little stressed lately.”  
  
“Not as stressed as I’ll be when that Vulcan finds out that I let you delay your checkup.  C’mon, let’s get off this ship. Don’t you worry, sugar, I’ll do all I can to help.”  
  
…  
  
Captain James T. Kirk was his most professional self, impressing the space dock personnel with his encyclopedic knowledge of the structure and condition of the Enterprise and his concern for his crew.  Space dock crew members listened and watched him admiringly, enraptured by the modified, non-flirtatious version of the Kirk Smile.   Kirk expressed both gratitude and interest in the work of the space dock crew.    
  
  
By the time the Enterprise crew members entered the space dock’s large transporter room and prepared to beam down to the surface of Alpha Cachette, dozens of voices whispered that his popularity in Starfleet circles was utterly justified.   _What a Captain! He’s got it all -- smarts -- looks -- tech knowledge -- people skills. I’d love to work for him._  
  
People had underestimated Kirk at one time, Charles Steap had heard.  His own experience had been the opposite -- good grades, star athlete, good looks, early entry to Starfleet.  It was only when he found himself assigned to missions that he had to deal with the frustration of not being taken seriously enough.  Why couldn’t they see that he, himself, would make as good a ship Captain -- hell, a better ship Captain -- than a smooth-talking farm boy like Kirk?  He managed to keep the scowl off his face as the tingling swirl of the beaming process began.  
  
After beaming down to the transporter room of Starbase 231, the crew passed through a security corridor lined with sensors. Steap held his breath, wondering if the metal disk in his arm might set off some alarm, but he emerged into the sunlight without hearing so much as a beep.  Perhaps the disk was made from some amalgam as yet unknown to Federation security.   
  
Another round of greetings, this time from Starfleet members stationed at Starbase 231 on Alpha Cachette.  Jim Kirk’s enthusiasm and charm were real.  He couldn’t have imagined feeling so engaged with life years ago, as a restless, sometimes angry adolescent.  Now he was fully involved with people and starships every day, and as long as he was busy or under pressure the loneliness and homesickness couldn’t creep in.  Starbase 231 crew also fell under the spell of the Kirk Smile.  Before the Enterprise crew boarded transportation to their temporary residences, they were informed of recreational activities facilitated by the Starbase crew:  a beach visit and a late afternoon party organized by Mayor Aurelia Tutto in the Town Hall gardens.  
  
“The Mayor?  Guess I gotta wear that damned tight dress jacket to the festivities,” McCoy grumbled.  
  
“I got my dress uniform tailored.  Makes it a mite more tolerable,” Jim smiled.  The warm air of Alpha Cachette put him in a relaxed mood as he waited outdoors to board transport along with the bridge crew, and a bit of Midwestern colloquial ease slipped into his speech.  As Jim said, he had taken the time and expense to have his dress uniform tailored to flatter his broad shoulders, chest, firm backside, and strong legs.  The expense paid for itself in flattering attention from various delegates and diplomats.  It also made Jim feel good about himself.  So what if his stepfather hated him for looking like his dead father?  Somebody liked the way he looked, though it was for quite different reasons.  

He hoped that Mayor Tutto would like him, too.     
  
  
The  Enterprise crew broke up into groups for transportation to guest residences in town.  Some boarded the cars of a small train.  Others climbed into large, bus-like, vibrantly painted vehicles, their blue, yellow, and green colors softened by weather.  Alpha Cachette did not lack for financial resources, but the planetary cultures leaned towards simplicity and thrift in many ways.    
  
“Are those rusty crates safe to ride in?” growled Dr. McCoy.    
  
“According to the information given to us by the Starbase, yes,” relied Spock. “Despite their appearance, these vehicles are safe to use.  All are outfitted with safety devices, are roadworthy and are suitable for crew transport.”   
  
Len rolled his eyes.  “They look  _rustic_ and that's being charitable.  I figure it's too far to walk, so I'll go.  I hope those 'beach cabins' mentioned in the dossier don't turn out to be cardboard shacks.”  Clutching his tricorder and a medical kit, the doctor helped other crewmates aboard before finding a seat and firmly strapping himself in.    
  
Nyota didn't usually complain about travel conditions, preferring to see them as informative experiences instead.  She did stifle a laugh as the vehicle's engine made coughing sounds before it kicked into action.  Soon the long vehicle was on its way, passing colorful trees, flowering plants, and small farms. Solar panels shone from every roof they passed.  She noticed a curved decoration, perhaps the shell of some local marine animal, hung over the door of some of the closer houses.  The few people she saw in the early morning light were neatly dressed and looked healthy; they waved at the Enterprise crew, who waved back.  The Vulcan apprentices, initially confused by this behavior, watched the crew and then imitated them in returning greetings to strangers.    
  
The roads were in fairly good condition and water gleamed from an inlet leading to the sea.  Pleasant enough.  Maybe she and Spock could finally relax together when they weren't processing reports from the security search.  The diagnosis wouldn't matter; whatever the news, she knew she needed to let go of the stress and uncertainty she'd felt recently.    
  
Steady rumbling shook the seat she'd chosen, close to one of the vehicle's massive wheels.   Their drive took them over a partially resurfaced stretch of road, and Nyota's seat began to vibrate steadily. The sensation was far from unpleasant.  She shifted in her seat, but the buzz moved up between her thighs and between her legs, making her feel aroused and slightly wet.   _ Why this, and why now ?   _   
  
Spock, who had chosen to sit a few seats away near Kirk to discuss logistical matters related to reboarding the  Enterprise , half turned in her direction.  He handed Kirk his padd and took advantage of Kirk's distraction to make eye contact with Nyota.   
  
Holding her gaze, he lifted his thumb to his lower lip, opened his mouth slightly, and stroked his thumb along the edge of his lip, left to right corner.  She recognized the movement.  It was something he often did while pleasing her with his mouth. If she was particularly excited and wet, he paused to wipe his lips during and after the act.   
  
Nyota's pulse seemed to throb in time with the vibrations from the wheel.     
  


_ Spock, you... _

_ Yes, Nyota? _

_ Tease! _

 

 

Amusement flowed across the mental bond.    _I do not tease; I promise._ _ The next time you are wet, machinery will not be involved._

  
Nyota took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  When she opened them, Spock had turned away.  Nyota looked at the neatly trimmed hair on the nape of his neck, imagining herself running her fingers and tongue along his clipped hairline, pressing her lips against his skin, and biting the side of his neck until he moaned.  
  
Spock's fingers trembled, making him hold the padd awkwardly before he regained his usual attitude of firm command.    
  
Nyota smiled.  
  
…  
  
Steap sat alone near the back, pretending to be drowsy.  He furtively checked the screen of the   non-Starfleet communicator in his hand; it was a forbidden device he'd hacked to send and receive encrypted and difficult to trace messages.  A message from his alien contact appeared, making his heart pound.  He'd be free of Starfleet soon.  Steap saw an address on the screen, a small image of a nondescript house similar to others he'd already glimpsed on this backwater planet. He wrote,  _Where money?_ , only to receive the reply  _Slight delay. You come tomorrow and all will be shown to you_.  
  
Not again!  He had to threaten them, force them to take him seriously.   _ Hurry up or I tell Starfleet all abt you_  
  
A long pause, then:  
  
 _What do you know of us?_  
  
Scowling, Steap replied:   _More than u told me_  
  
Slowly, the metal disk in his arm grew warm.   _ Do as we say and you get what we promise and more. Tomorrow._  
  
Steap’s fingers stabbed at the communicator.  _No. U do as I say I have info u need I can blow yr cover u will see wht I can do --_  
  
  
“Charles, you're missing all of this beautiful scenery.  There’s the Town Hall.  Our crew is invited to a welcoming party there tonight.”  Charlene Masters from Engineering interrupted his thoughts,  indicating some sight through  the window.  A big fancy building, a sort of  long, oval dome surrounded by curving garden paths.  Hiding the communicator under his bag, Steap  nodded back at Masters and made a noncommittal remark.  Charlene realized he wasn’t listening to her.  Oh, well, she’d tried; Steap hardly spoke to her anyway if he could help it.  When she turned around to talk to Scotty Steap looked down at his communicator.   
  
The screen was blank, and the metal disk in his arm felt cool again. Steap grit his teeth angrily.  Until he could pry the damn thing out of his skin or disable it, he'd have to do as the aliens said.  He looked toward McCoy; he'd overheard the  Enterprise doctor tell Uhura about a Starfleet clinic in town near the cabins where bridge crew were to be housed here on Alpha Cachette.  All he needed to do was sneak in and find the right tools, maybe an anesthetic hypospray, disinfectant, and a scalpel.  He was tough enough, and by tomorrow he just  might be desperate enough.  It couldn't be much worse than removing a splinter.   
  
Stelen and Serran exchanged a confused look with Donstelralth.  Ensign Steap seemed to have little interest in the powerful aesthetic appeal of a temperate Earth-like planet.  It was unusual to repeatedly check one's communication device for messages when surrounded by water, plants, attractive buildings, and the potential for new experiences and learning.  The human also kept rubbing his arm.   
  
“Travel is wasted on some beings,” Donstelralth muttered in Vulcan.  
  
The convoy of vehicles reached the city gates.  Two vast curving shapes carved from pink and deep purple-colored stone soared into the sky, one on each side of a vast, multi-lane road.  A vaguely oval-shaped carving featuring a projecting nub was mounted between the shapes where they met at the top.  
  
“Благослови меня (Bless me)!” Chekov gasped.  “Zat is a giant p–”  
  
“It is a monumental, abstract representation of a  _vulva_ ,” Spock said flatly.  
  
“Abstract? Not really,” Jim Kirk observed, looking up at the massive sculpted clitoris overhead.  “I recognize  _that_.”  
  
“Guess you could say we're all being reborn, headin' back in,” McCoy drawled. “Some days the peace of the womb seems preferable to the world's troubles. Might be pretty cramped in there, unfortunately, and there’s no whisky.”  
  
Jim opened the all-staff channel on his communicator and addressed the crew.  “All right, everybody.  Say what you've got to say about this  now , before we get into town.  Starfleet has a longstanding presence here, on Alpha Cachette, but it's essential that we maintain peaceful relations with our hosts.  Please keep your negative opinions to yourselves and respect local customs and points of view.  Remember the Prime Directive.”  
  
“I've got nothing against it.  I think it  rocks ,”  Sulu said with a grin.  Chekov, his face red,  took two deep breaths and decided not to comment further.   
  
Charlene looked at Scotty.  
  
“What's the matter, 'Lene?”  
  
“You're just aching to say something, aren't you?”  
  
“ Me ?  Never.”  He batted his eyelashes at her innocently, and Charlene gave him a light jab with her elbow.  Watching, Stelen frowned slightly.  He had not realized that Charlene of Engineering and Engineer Scott were such good friends.   
  
  
“All it's missing is a giant set of fingers; too bad my own hands are so small,” Ensign Miranda murmured to the women around her, who quivered with suppressed laughter as she held up her own neatly manicured, short-nailed hand.    
  
  
Some of her crewmates' reactions amused her, but Nyota kept her composure.  She was the Communications Officer, and people would expect her to respond to cultural differences in a mature, unruffled manner.  She genuinely liked the sculpted gates.  She didn’t want to offend anyone by taking a picture so she kept looking through the window, memorizing the gates’ appearance.   
  
As the vehicle slowed down in traffic  Nyota watched the people and buildings.  More of the curved objects she'd seen earlier were mounted over the doors of homes and shops; now she recognized them for what they were.  They were not shells, as she earlier thought, but clay or wood representations of vulvas and thighs.  Something about their appearance felt comforting and friendly, an indication that women were safe and welcome.    
  
She leaned back in her seat, relieved that the vibrations ended as the vehicle drove over smooth town roads.  More official business, a little time with Gaila, then the medical clinic, then the beach, some sort of garden reception hosted by the port town's sociable Mayor, and then...blessed rest, time to talk with Spock and figure out what to do with the diagnosis, be it good or bad.  
  
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Next chapter:  trouble, uncertainty, and a bit of bold behavior.  
  
Thank you for reading!  This tale is almost over...please take a moment to post a review or comment.


	13. Large House, Large Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter: mild sexual references.

**Osmosis / a STXI S/U fanfic**

**Chapter 13: Large House, Large Matters**

_Nyumba kubwa husitiri mambo makubwa. (Kiswahili proverb)_

Idiomatic Translation: A large house hides large matters.

Literal Meaning: Where there are lots of people in one place there will be lots of things going on, both good and bad.

 

* * *

_**Port Town, Alpha Cachette** _

_**Morning** _

The _Enterprise_ crew's temporary quarters on Alpha Cachette looked so quaint that dozens of tense shoulders collectively relaxed. Green-roofed cabins dotted an expanse of grassy land stretching out to the seashore. Happy comments buzzed through the warm air as people stepped out of the transport vehicles. In the interest of diplomacy, Starfleet had arranged to assist the Vulcans until they safely boarded transport back to New Vulcan, so they remained with the _Enterprise_ crew.

 _Rest_ , Nyota thought. _And lovemaking, maybe. Unless.._.

Spock turned and looked at her. _I will accompany you to the clinic, Nyota. You will not face this alone._

Staff members and the cheerful owner of the guesthouses strode out from a central building to greet them. Leonard McCoy observed that the open vulva pendant hanging from a thin chain around the man's neck was anatomically correct: labia majora, labia minora and clitoris carefully, gracefully cast in metal. Other workers, male and female alike, wore similar pendants. _Maybe I should get one as a souvenir…but I'm a general practitioner, not a gynecologist._

The owner used a voice amplifier to address the large group. "Welcome, Starfleet! I'm excited to see you and hope you'll be comfortable here." In his enthusiasm, his speech lapsed into the local pidgin. "Mek free fi itilize the basikals and transport mashin as you need fi mek go 'round di city."

Quickly, Nyota got the man's attention and tried to explain the confused expressions on the faces of some crewmembers as the man tried to inform them of transportation options. "Pardon, sir; wyin dey look ask, Standard words dey sabi, but Alpha Cachette talk-talk no sabi." ( _Pardon, sir; the reason they look as though they have questions is that they all understand Standard. Alpha Cachette pidgin /local language is not familiar_.)

"Ah! But wyin _you_ sabi?" (But why do _you_ know it?)

"I'm the Communications Officer fi Enterprise, so prepared for this. Too-too, during travels wit my family on Earth, I heard various types of pidgin in some countries, sabi di palava." ( _Also, during travels with my family, I heard pidgin and learned conversational speech._ )

"Good-good, thank you, blessed woman. Pardon me, Starfleet, I am excited to have you here. As I was saying…"

Spock's hand brushed hers, and she sensed his respect and admiration. She was only doing her job, but his acknowledgement of her skills pleased her.

…

Ensign Steap scowled at the sculpted vulva and thighs hanging above his cabin door. At least he could make his own cabin suitably masculine for the single night he had to spend there. Glancing around to see whether anyone watched, he gripped an edge and tried to pry the thing off.

Leonard McCoy pushed a bicycle along the path, intending to make a short ride to the Starfleet clinic to prepare for Nyota's exam. He was leaving a little early because he didn't want to be alone in the beach cabin; the night had enough lonely hours. Len stopped in his tracks as he rounded a corner and saw Charles Steap.

"Steap! What the hell are you doin'? Stop before the local people see you."

Jumping back in surprise, Steap turned to glare at McCoy, and then quickly calmed himself. "Oh, sorry, Doctor. This isn't what it looks like."

Propping the bike on its kickstand, McCoy strode over to the Ensign. "This ain't your first day in Starfleet. You know damned well that respect for local customs falls under the umbrella of the Prime Directive. Why were you trying to remove that?"

"It was hung crooked and I was trying to straighten it." Steap's voice was as calm as his facial expression.

McCoy gave him a hard look. "Boy, do you even _know_ you're lyin'? If I see you foolin' with that again we're havin' a private chat with the Captain and First Officer."

"I assure you, that won't be necessary. It won't happen again, sir." That much was true. By this time tomorrow he'd be off-planet.

McCoy's medical training included service in urban and suburban hospitals and the Starfleet brig, among other places. He'd stitched up spoiled teenagers, cheating spouses, thieves, drunks, embezzlers, and the occasional Starfleet officer. No profession was free of liars. He couldn't prove Steap intended to do wrong, but he would watch him. Kirk had promoted this immature fellow too quickly.

"Listen, Steap. Some things about Alpha Cachette's culture may make you uncomfortable, but trust me, this adventure's a breeze compared to being on a planet with active hostilities. Join the crew at the beach later; it'll give you other stuff to think about." McCoy nodded sharply and left.

Steap's hidden communicator vibrated, and he stepped inside to read the message. His alien contact appeared, this time in a shaggy, badly fitted wig. The recorded message provided an address, a map, and an image of a house with a vegetable patch or small field in the background.

_Don't come until specified time tomorrow as you get nothing before that time._

Steap shook his head. Next time he'd trade secrets to faster paying clients. One more big payout and he was free to do as he wanted. He messaged back:

_Be there_

Whether he was saying he would be there, or that he was directing them to be there – let them figure it out.

…

The cozy beach cabin was clean and simply furnished. Dr. McCoy's worries about rusticity were groundless; various technology tools were integrated into the walls and fixtures. Shoeless, Nyota walked across the floor covering woven from soft plant stems. She stood at a broad window facing the beach a short distance away.

"It's nice here. I'm grateful for a few easier days."

Spock slid his arms around her waist. "As am I. Perhaps all is not easy yet."

Nyota sighed. "I need to go back into town and get the exam over with. Then I'll see Gaila before she beams up to the _Enterprise_ for tech work. I'll come back to join the crew at the beach."

Spock leaned over her shoulder and pressed the warm side of his face against hers. "What is this 'I'? Please say 'we'. I told you that I will accompany you to the exam. You have been protective of me, and I can do no less."

"I had such hopes for our life together -" she sighed and turned away from the window. Spock rested his hands on her shoulders.

" _K'diwa_ (wife), we may yet have it. We should leave for town now."

…

_**Port Town, Alpha Cachette** _

_**Mid-morning** _

Nyota received a message from Gaila on the way into town; scheduling at the space dock forced her to delay their meeting until the Mayor's garden party that evening. Gaila had already beamed aboard the _Enterprise_ to examine and troubleshoot shipboard computer operations, with special attention to the possibility of minor hacking.

Dr. McCoy accepted Spock's request to come to the clinic earlier than planned. No further delay of the dreaded medical exam was possible. Nyota squared her shoulders and entered the clinic, Spock's reassuring presence beside her.

Leonard briefly considered asking one of his colleagues to conduct Nyota's examination instead. He was fond of both Nyota and Spock though he'd rarely admit the latter. However, he knew that if he asked Dr. M'Benga or someone else to examine Nyota, he'd only pester them later with suggestions of treatments and research papers they'd already read, and he might violate doctor-patient confidentiality. Len's sense of empathetic professionalism returned, and he became Dr. McCoy again.

"As you know, it's advisable to conduct a breast self-exam, or BSE, at least weekly. Is that how you found these lumps?"

"Uh, no...Spock found them. I haven't exactly been consistent about doing the BSE," Nyota admitted. Spock had reluctantly agreed to remain in the waiting room during the examination as she'd asked. Now she was glad that he would not hear her say she'd neglected simple maintenance of her own health.

"Partners and lovers sometimes find them before the patient does, it's not unusual. I'm not gonna lecture you, but please take better care of yourself."

Assisted by a nurse, McCoy followed through with more questions and visual checks: unusual discharge, dimpled or rippled skin. Nyota underwent a series of torso and pelvic scans and checks with various medical devices.

Dr. McCoy made quiet, informative remarks during the procedures, none of which concluded that Nyota was ill or well. The accented cadence of his voice calmed her. She could sense Spock in the waiting room, where he considered the probability of positive outcomes.

Afterward Nyota and Spock sat side by side, their hands touching. Dr. McCoy noticed an odd synchronicity in their movements; they blinked in cadence while they listened to him.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but the scan produced inconclusive results and it's going to take a little more time to provide results. Breast health involves so much more than cancer; patients may notice symptoms related to such conditions as fibrocystic breast disease or breast infections. All are treatable and Starfleet Medical offers you many options. Please understand that I'm only discussing the data gathered and analyzed so far. A biopsy may not be necessary. Biopsies sound old-fashioned – some consider them barbaric – but it's the one way to be completely certain."

Nyota's long eyelashes lowered, breaking the uniformity of the couple's movements. Spock covered her hand with his and spoke softly to her in Vulcan.

McCoy thought that Spock's tender concern made him seem quite human. He tried to reassure both of them as he concluded the discussion. "Twenty-four hours, Nyota, and we'll find out exactly what's wrong. We'll analyze your scans more thoroughly and provide a full report. Spock, I'll message you both immediately when I have more news."

Nyota looked up. "Thank you for being so honest about this. I'm prepared to undergo any necessary procedures," she said evenly. "I really appreciate all you've done, Len." She clasped his hand before the couple left.

Grabbing her hand, Spock pulled Nyota from the corridor and into an empty conference room. "Computer, seal door. Cameras off."

"What –"

Spock gathered Nyota into a close embrace, lifting her off her feet. "My _ashalik_ (darling) Nyota, how much I want thee to be well," he murmured in Vulcan. He sat her atop the table and touched his forehead to hers. She pressed her hand against his side and felt his heart pounding. He clasped her free hand with his own, pressing their palms together. The skin contact revealed agitation, love, fear.

"I can bear this, but I do not _want_ to," he said, a rough edge to his voice.

"Spock, please. Easy, love. Don't worry. Things may be just fine."

"The analysis may not be in our favor."

"So we'll face it head-on, thinking of the infected cells as enemy ships, and employ effective tactical strategies."

"I will use every resource available to obtain appropriate medical care for you and maintain your health. You may grow weary of my attempts to direct your activities, _tal-kam_ (dear one) Expect carefully researched meals and early bed times."

"Really? I won't complain about those early bedtimes unless I'm expected to go to bed alone every night."

"I do not wish to exhaust you."

"Big man, I wish that you _would_ exhaust me, in several different positions. It's been a while."

"Nyota, you are avoiding the issue."

"So? Help me get through this by humoring me, and by keeping our lives as normal as possible. Don't cut my hours on the bridge yet. Whether I'm ill or not, just try to live every day with me as best we can. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Have I told you how much I love this little half-smile you make?"

"You have verbally communicated your fondness for this particular facial expression one hundred and eighty-three times; in written, encoded messages, thirty-two times; and in audio recordings, forty-three times out of the one hundred and eighty-three. Each instance pleases me."

"Oh, sweetheart. Let's aim for a thousand times, in all categories."

…

Wishing to expend his nervous energy, Spock left to spend some time in the small gym nearby. Nyota ate, drank tea, and checked personal communications in the beach cabin. Encouraging messages from Gaila, her parents, siblings, and Auntie 'Chelle awaited her. She'd decided not to tell other _Enterprise_ crew until she had a firm diagnosis...and perhaps not even then.

A small package bumped against the toe of her boot as she opened the door to step out into the fresh air. Nyota picked up the small box; inside she found a package of tea, with a note written on its side.

_Hi, Nyota. I saw you going into the medical clinic earlier today and wondered if you're okay. You mentioned feeling tired lately, so I didn't knock in case you were resting. I hope everything's all right. Let me know if I can help with a chat or just listening._

_Peace, Charlene_

So much for keeping her health a secret. _Oh, why am I worried?_ It would be unlike Charlene, a considerate and kind woman, to discuss the personal activities of her crewmates.

Unless she slipped up and told one particular engineer, of course. The tea was an expensive, popular brand produced on Earth. Nyota remembered seeing Scotty give similar tea to other _Enterprise_ crew members.

Perhaps Charlene had her own need to confide in someone.

...

_**Port Town Beach, Alpha Cachette** _

_**Early afternoon** _

A long composite wood boardwalk bordered by clumps of green and purple beach grass led to the beach. Spock was quiet as they followed the crew toward the water. Nyota wished that he would hold her hand, but he seemed mindful of the presence of the other Vulcans and did not do what a human man would have done. She permitted herself a few seconds to wonder at the contrast between the man who met her passions kiss for kiss, touch for touch when they were alone and the man who walked beside her, not touching. Maybe her hormones were adding to her worries.

 _Oohs_ and _aahs_ sounded from the group as they walked out onto a broad expanse of open sand, fine, sugary white granules. Greenish-blue water rolled in gentle waves. Silent, Donstelralth and the young Vulcans stared at the water in awe. Spock's previous travel experiences on Earth made him less astonished, but Nyota sensed that he found the sea and sand aesthetically appealing.

Two fingers brushed against her hand, causing her own fingers to open. Spock slowed his steps, seeking and receiving the finger kiss.

He opened their bond, spoke to her.

_If we return to this beach alone, early morning someday…_

An image blending sunrise, nudity, and fruit consumed while reclining on a thick blanket followed.

_Oh, my naughty Spock. Tell me, would you like this as well...?_

He saw himself from her point of view, his head and shoulders silhouetted against the stars sparkling in the night sky far above their bodies. She pulled him close to her with her internal muscles and her arms. They moved together on the thick blanket, their hips undulating in tune with the sounds of the water. _Deeper_ , she murmured, crossing her ankles behind his back.

Spock's steps faltered and stopped.

"Hurry up, you two!" Jim shouted. The Starfleet group claimed spots on the beach, spreading out mats and blankets and assembling portable shade devices.

Sulu stripped off his shirt, causing others to pause in their own disrobing. Heads turned as he ran for the water and dove in.

Nyota heard someone sigh, "By _all_ the deities, I wish I could have Sulu, even for one night…"

"Slow down, California boy," Jim hollered after the _Enterprise_ helmsman. He stripped down to a pair of red swim trunks, paused to let people admire him, then followed Sulu.

Spock did not particularly enjoy swimming, but he appreciated the opportunity to combine social activity with time spent outdoors in agreeable weather conditions. Together, he and Nyota lay out their own mats and erected a sun shade. To his surprise, after she removed her long, loose overdress she was dressed almost as modestly as when in uniform.

"You did not wear your scarlet bikini today." Spock decided that he did not particularly care for the swim dress in Starfleet red. The modest, comfortable garment held some aesthetic appeal, thanks to the skilled Starfleet designers. However, Spock could have argued that the absent bikini was hardly immodest in comparison to some of the brief swimming attire worn by other crew members. True, it clung to the curves of her breasts and hips, but it covered the soft place where her hip and thigh met. Spock knew how to draw fascinating responses from Nyota when he kissed that spot, then bit and licked it.

"I thought it appropriate to cover myself," Nyota replied, glancing toward their Vulcan guests.

"Understood. However, we are not on New Vulcan, but among a largely human crew."

"Sweetheart…I think that they're distracted enough as it is, the young apprentices. Young men talk, and you know they'll take all sorts of tales back to New Vulcan! I'm not adding any fuel to _that_ fire."

Stelen lowered his voice, although he spoke in Vulcan. " _Osavensu_ Donstelralth, the _bikini_ worn by many of the _Enterprise_ females is illogical. Surely those tiny cloth triangles will be removed by the force of the waves in the sea!"

"That is unlikely," the older Vulcan said patiently. "Without staring, you may wish to take note of the construction of these swimming garments. Strong fasteners or prudently tied knots keep the garments on the body. Do _not_ stare, please! In addition, each garment is carefully measured and the appropriate sizes selected by the wearer. Really, these are simple concepts. On some planets humanoids wear no garments at all when engaging in water recreation."

" _No_ garments? They must suffer terribly from the cold. I have another question. Human men wear two different types of swimming garments: small and tight, like underclothing, or loose with room for the legs and useful pockets. I notice that all three of us and _Opidsu_ Spock chose the latter style. However, there appears to be a preference for the smaller garment among some men. _Osavensu_ Donstelralth, which style is preferable?"

Donstelralth tied back his hair. "It is a matter of personal aesthetic preference."

Stelen asked with surprise, "Do you intend to swim?"

"No; I do not swim very well, despite my efforts to learn during my travels. In the interest of conviviality we shall ' _wade_ '. Remove your footwear and walk with me into the water."

"See how _Opidsu_ Spock enters the water with his bondmate _T'sai_ Uhura. Now look, he swims!" Serran's face lit up with amazement.

Donstelralth dipped a toe into the surf. "Swimming is likely part of required Starfleet training."

"I never thought to experience such unusual things in my life," Stelen said, awestruck. "Half-naked humans in public. A Vulcan swimming. Bitter coffee drink. The universe is filled with wonders."

He turned, seeing Charlene Masters in a turquoise blue one-piece, and observed yet another wonder. She threw a ball in a game with Chekov, Scotty and other crew. Stelen hesitated, fearing rejection, but Charlene asked him to join them. Human social life seemed less difficult day by day. He wondered how Charlene would respond if the roles were reversed and she sought friendship among Vulcans.

Spock could indeed swim. He had no great fondness for the practice, but engaged in it on occasion to maintain the skill. He moved with the waves, floating and practicing strokes while Nyota and some of the other women laughed and played in the water.

Soaking wet now, the swim dress clung to Nyota's body, reminding him of her duty uniform with its short skirt. As the waves swirled around him Spock remembered one of his most persistent fantasies, a scenario involving the empty bridge of the _Enterprise,_ a partially walled-off workstation with handles set into the walls, and a shelf where Nyota could rest one of her feet. He imagined the colored lights of the ship's controls glowing softly on her bared thighs and reflecting on the handles, which she gripped as he moved within her. Spock stroked the back of her neck with his free hand. Only he heard her ecstatic cries as she came. Afterward, illogically, they floated for a long moment in zero gravity, kissing.

The water wasn't cold enough to stop the tenting at the front of his trunks. Spock moved a little further into the water, willing himself down.

During his encounter with Steap in the _Enterprise_ corridor, Captain Kirk had hinted at a basic surfing lesson, and now Steap put on his most pleasant attitude and delivered. Using boards rented from a small building on the beach, Steap showed Jim how to get started. The Captain was eager, appreciative and learned quickly. By the time they finished Steap no longer faked his laughter at Jim's humorous observations on the process. Under different circumstances he could have liked the guy, even considered him a friend, but too much was out of balance – not in his favor.

Fighting an annoyingly persistent feeling of regret, Steap assured the Captain that he looked forward to the Mayor's welcoming party for the _Enterprise_ crew in a few hours.

…

A familiar chime filtered through the comfortable haze of sunshine, waves, and drowsy crew conversation. Nyota awoke from a brief nap beneath the sunshade and pulled her communicator from its protective cover. An encrypted message from Gaila waited. Nyota decrypted it, hoping that her friend wouldn't say she couldn't meet after all. She'd looked forward to conversation and laughter with her former roommate.

_Hi Ny. I've solved your problem, mostly anyway. Want to see you and talk w/you at party tonight. No emergency situation with the Enterprise - all safe now - but the most frequent instances of the hacking appear localized and target your ID. Somebody aboard doesn't seem to like you much. Any idea who it is? If I find out will kick their ass into warp drive, unless you or your big Vulcan beat me to it. See you soon._

* * *

_Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter_ :

Opidsu= Lord. Formal address for a man.

Osasu = honorific - polite form of address for a man.

Osavensu= honored teacher.

T'sai= Lady. Form of formal address.

* * *

Thanks very much for reading, and for posting comments & reviews!

Next chapter: Jim can't help himself; Charlene figures something out; Steap makes a move.


	14. Half Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter: some sexual interaction, chapter length (7K word count)  
> Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:
> 
> Ashalik=Darling.
> 
> Ashayam= Beloved.
> 
> Tal-kam =Dear one.

**Osmosis – a STXI fanfic**

**Ch. 14 :Half Taken**

…

 

It is the same in love as in war; a fortress that parleys is half taken.

\- _Marguerite de Valois_ / _Marguerite de France_ , 1553 1615

* * *

_**Town Hall, Port Town** _

_**Planet Alpha Cachette, JoBakair planetary system** _

**_Late afternoon/early evening_ **

"Uh, Uhura?" Jim said in a low voice, hoping not to be overheard by the assembled dignitaries gathered beneath the curving roof of an open-sided structure in the Town Hall gardens. Other _Enterprise_ crew entered the gardens, first passing through a main building ornamented with curved colored glass shapes in tones of deep pink, maroon, purplish-brown, and black.

"Yes, Captain?" Nyota kept her expression neutral. After the afternoon's swim dress episode she'd chosen a more alluring evening look: a comfortable but flattering sleeveless orange dress and dangling earrings. Spock had actually looked relieved. Handsome in his blue dress jacket, he circulated with local dignitaries a few meters away, fielding inquiries about New Vulcan. Nyota considered rescuing him.

Jim, looking handsome in a different way in his gold jacket, asked: "Those vulva pendants people are wearing...do you recall from the cultural dossier exactly what they indicate?"

Nyota was bemused to see Jim so self-conscious, considering how much genitalia he'd dealt with. "Yes, Captain. They're indications of a political or sociological point of view. The wearers have an interest in protecting women's quality of life."

"So if they wear the pendant, does that mean they're all straight, or lesbian if women are wearing them?"

 _Of course; he's looking for company_. Nyota tried to reply without judgment. "Not necessarily. In the past, people wore the vulva symbols as a sign that they're willing to be intimate with women, though perhaps not exclusively. However, according to the cultural dossier that particular custom's defunct. Now the pendant doesn't indicate orientation. Pansexual expressions and interactions are common on Alpha Cachette, but sexuality isn't openly discussed in most social contexts unless it's for education."

"Really? That's odd, considering that we're surrounded by..." Jim glanced down at the mosaic flooring beneath their feet. Tiles in shades of dark rose, purple, and black formed a large image of abstract labia – and more - on the floor of the huge circular patio. "Um, yeah. I understand. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Donstelralth and the apprentices admired the tiles.

"This is fine work. The surface appears remarkably smooth and level." Serran bent and rubbed his fingers across the tiles.

"At least two coats of finishing sealant, I think," Stelen said.

"Perhaps it would be profitable to offer mosaic services on New Vulcan," the elder Vulcan mused. "One could spell out verses from Surak's teachings in colorful Vulcan script." He looked pleased, and almost smiled. "Our experience, though difficult, has led us in creative directions, gentlemen. We shall return to New Vulcan with fine wood supplies and new business ideas. Perhaps it was not so terrible to be stranded."

…

As a man of science, Dr. Leonard McCoy regarded psychic phenomena with skepticism. As a Southerner raised by tender-hearted folk, he was sensitive to human responses. He could almost see nervous energy radiating from Jim as he watched Mayor Aurelia Tutto speak to her aides before crossing the room to greet the Enterprise bridge crew.

Age was sometimes difficult to place among non-Terran humanoids; the woman might have been anywhere between forty-five and sixty, depending upon chronological variations. She was attractive, confident, vibrant. Smooth skin in some places, light lines in others. She carried it all gracefully. Under different circumstances McCoy might have asked her to dinner himself.

Beside him, the fabric of Jim's dress jacket rustled as he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, impatiently waiting to launch himself at his prey. If this hadn't been a matriarchal society and Jim a Starfleet Captain, the younger man might have simply run after the Mayor, thrown her over his shoulder, and carried her off.

"Easy there, Jim," McCoy said. "You can't have everything."

"I know," Jim replied. "Sometimes I _want_ everything. I just want to hear her say _'_ yes'. "

 _How would it feel to be the object of such focused lust?_ McCoy wondered, quickly dismissing the thought. He distracted Jim with work talk, lowering his voice. "Say, Jim, when we meet tomorrow I need to discuss a personnel issue with you. I've got concerns about a promotion that may have happened too quickly." He tilted his head toward Ensign Steap, moodily nursing a glass of pale green liqueur several meters away.

At the mention of _Enterprise_ matters, Jim's demeanor calmed and he responded quietly. "Steap? He's very capable, excellent skills, good background. We may disagree on this, Bones, but yes, let's discuss the pros and cons."

"Good evening, officers. I trust you are comfortable at this gathering?" Mayor Tutto's voice was welcoming, low, and sensual. She spoke Federation Standard with a lilt of the primary local accent. The _Enterprise_ crew responded to her warmth, officers and crew surging forward to greet her and thank her for her hospitality.

Jim's own greeting was formal, accompanied by a flirtatious version of the Kirk Smile. He knew that he stared and risked offense, but he wanted her to see him. Amid the buzz of conversation, Mayor Tutto stared back. Her assessing gaze swept over his blushing face and down his legs.

A light sweat prickled over his chest, which the Mayor seemed to measure with her gaze before making eye contact again.

 _What's happening here_? He'd been in combat situations where an opponent sized him up with two, four, or eight eyes. The Mayor wasn't going to hit him, but some other challenge presented itself. Seduction? Desire? Rejection?

Aurelia Tutto turned to respond to some pleasantries voiced by Sulu and Scotty, and the way that the smooth fabric of her dress draped over her breasts made him stare a few seconds too long. She moved again and the open side seam of her skirt revealed a shapely, muscled calf. Perhaps she rode bicycles like much of the population, hiked the distant rolling mountains, or stripped off her clothes to swim in the rivers leading to the sea.

Jim moved closer, listened to her make some astute observation about Starfleet. A waitperson approached with a tray of drinks. Jim retrieved two glasses, thanking the tray bearer with his best Midwestern manners, and offered one of the glasses to Mayor Tutto. His fingertips slid against hers as he handed her the glass, accidentally on purpose. She didn't flinch at his touch. As she sipped her drink, she eyed him over the rim.

_Maybe I shouldn't do this, but if she wants..._

Most of his old buddies on Earth would have sneered at the idea of flirting with the Mayor. Too bad; their loss. Jim had realized how little they had left in common during his last visit home to Iowa. He wasn't a boy anymore. He liked being a man.

Sulu asked Mayor Tutto about the local ecosystem, and she broke eye contact with Jim to answer in detail. McCoy gave Jim a warning look, interrupting his admiration of the Mayor. Jim shrugged and smiled innocently, easing himself back into the general conversation.

"Your honor, I'd be glad to provide general information about the _Enterprise_. You understand that information related to our present technical and logistical review is confidential, but I can offer you other things."

"Thank you, Captain Kirk. It is good of you to be generous with your time." Her voice was polite, but he sensed faint amusement. Perhaps she thought he wasn't serious.

"It's my _pleasure_ , Ma'am." Jim kept his tone smooth, let echoes of Iowa accent shape his words. "I'll make time for anything you're interested in."

Mayor Tutto blinked as heat rushed across her skin. _Who does this arrogant young cub think he is? Good looks aren't everything_. She ought to know. Her last lover had been beautiful, but restless, and she'd packed her bags and left after she understood that Aurelia really intended to remain on Alpha Cachette and work to maintain the health and safety of the planet's citizens, rather than use the job as a stepping stone to more glamorous work. There had been a kind man before that, and a kinder woman, but both considered the planet a backwater. They didn't stay. Neither would this charming Starfleet captain.

Maybe she was deluding herself about his flirtation? No. Kirk's words were neutral enough, but something about his inflection made it seem as though he'd just offered to take off all her clothes, then his.

Jim noted her momentary discomfiture, satisfied. She'd finally _noticed_ him, and he would make it worth her while.

…

Nyota hugged Gaila hard before remembering that they were both dressed up. "Gaila, at last! Oh! Sorry, I hope I didn't rearrange your outfit." She indicated the sarong-like skirt Gaila wore with a shimmering black top; it was held up by a series of elaborate, ornamental knots and folds at the waist.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't care anyway. I'm so happy to see you! Commander Spock, it's good to see you again too. I'm relieved that the _Enterprise_ crew came through the recent incident so well. You'll find my report waiting among your messages, sir."

"Please, feel free to call me Spock in this setting. It is agreeable to meet you again as well. As for the report, I have already read it. Thank you for being so timely and thorough." The Orion woman's emotionality, scattered energy and extroverted personality unnerved him, though he was reluctant to tell Nyota. Her pheromones did not affect him, though he understood that her physiology, personality, and reputation caused many humanoid males to flock to her. Despite these drawbacks, Gaila was a steady and caring friend to his bondmate, an admirable quality in any being. However, as Leonard McCoy would say, Spock sometimes found her difficult to "take in large doses". After several minutes Spock excused himself, suggesting that the women might want to chat privately.

Gaila and Nyota walked down a garden path, arm in arm.

"You know what I want to ask," Gaila said.

"No result yet. Odd scan." Nyota shrugged. "Len said he'd have the results and diagnosis by tomorrow. Until then, _carpe diem_ , or _carpe noctem_. It'll be all right; I just don't want to spend lots of time receiving treatment in Sickbay, or worse, on leave. Maybe that sounds ungrateful- I should be glad I have access to medical treatment. Some planets don't."

"Pssh, who wants to be sick? Nobody. It's all right to feel worried or scared. Just feel what you gotta feel. At least you've got Mr. Strong and Silent and support you." Gaila looked over her shoulder, saw that they were alone, and pulled Nyota into a secluded area.

"Nyota, do any crewmembers resent you?" Gaila asked, her voice low.

"Probably several somebodies. I try to treat everyone fairly but some people think I'm demanding. Why do you say that?"

"You'll read all of this in the report later, but here it is. Your little problem with wandering, randomly misplaced and reassigned files isn't a software problem or a virus. It's a hacker. Not an especially skilled one, but good enough that I couldn't trace it completely back to the culprit. Those time-consuming, annoying problems you encountered were deliberately caused by someone cracking into one of your login identities and then fooling around with your files to annoy you personally. They invaded other systems aboard the ship – utilitarian stuff, like replicators and door entry codes. It all stopped some hours before the _Enterprise_ entered space dock. Don't worry; I reset security protocols and you're completely safe now, but -" Gaila let go of Nyota's arm and looked at her, unsmiling.

"Could somebody be carrying a serious grudge? Sometimes people start small, you know."

"No, I haven't had big problems recently. There's one macho, disrespectful type, an Ensign promoted by Kirk, but otherwise it's business as usual." Nyota shook her head. "The space dock security team will be able to tell us if they found any signs of another drone aboard. No strangers have come aboard the _Enterprise_ recently except the Vulcans we rescued."

"Yeah, I heard about your mission of mercy. Show me these stranded Vulcans."

The women returned to the party, where guests enjoyed a performance by local musicians.

Gaila's eyes widened as she surveyed the group of dancers on the broad patio. "How do I get some of _that_?"

Nyota followed Gaila's line of sight and observed Serranstivlen gyrating his hips with a deep, promise-filled groove.

"Oh, Gaila, no. Don't touch. Serranstivlen is a _kid_ , a carpenter's apprentice on New Vulcan. He's not a worldly person."

"Oh, yeah? Those hips have already been somewhere interesting. And that's not a kid, that's a _man_."

Nyota knew she fought a losing battle, but persisted. "Seriously, be careful. He's a diasporic Vulcan but he's lived on New Vulcan for a while and New Vulcan is pretty conservative in some ways. I'm not sure he's had much actual experience with other cultures regarding, uh, sexual situations. He may not understand certain things."

"Hmmm." The young Vulcan man tossed his hair back again and looked at Gaila over his shoulder. He didn't smile but they shared a look.

Gaila took a deep breath. "He understands, all right. Ny, are we gonna fight about this? Don't tell me you want all the Vulcans for yourself."

" _Tsk!_ You know that's not it! One Vulcan keeps me busy enough."

"Let this cutie make his own decisions. If he wants what I'm offering, well, we're both legal adults on somebody's calendar, somewhere." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Nyota, speaking Orion. "Every seven years for unbonded Vulcans is just a legend, right?"

"Opinions vary, but yes, they can have plain old sex. It's not the same as mating or bonding. It's more recreation than emotion."

"Recreation is all I want now. Some humans aren't very generous with emotions either." Gaila's eyes drifted toward Jim Kirk, conversing with the town's Mayor, then back to Serranstivlen. "You know that I've been lonely for a while. Can we agree to disagree about this?"

"Yes, I guess we'll have to. I just think - if you're lonely, wouldn't you rather have someone who likes you, loves you back?"

"Maybe. That love thing's easier said than done, huh? Anyway, I want to know if _all_ Vulcans are put off by Orion pheromones. Consider this a science experiment." She giggled. "Wish me luck."

Gaila turned her full, brilliant attention upon the young Vulcan, and moved into the swirling crowd of dancers.

Nyota sighed and rejoined Spock.

...

The older woman noticed the way the couple unconsciously walked in step, how they listened to each other. When Lieutenant Uhura's shawl slid down from her shoulders, Commander Spock pulled it back into place, his fingertips brushing against the nape of the Lieutenant's neck, and her body moved closer to his. Starships must be lonely places; if it were possible to sit and observe the _Enterprise_ crew socializing, one could probably point out dozens of small dramas of desire, alliances, avoidance or loneliness.

Another group of Port Town dignitaries curious about New Vulcan surrounded Spock and Nyota took advantage of the distraction to sit down for a few moments. Mayor Tutto joined her on the bench and smiled gently at Nyota, who smiled back. They discussed the music, the warm night, and the sweet scents of the flowering plants.

Mayor Tutto was always more interested in people than things. "The Vulcan Commander - your formally bonded mate?"

Nyota nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We are legally and ceremonially bonded."

"It's a love match, is it not? He is so attentive to you. You are fortunate."

Surprised by the personal bent of the Mayor's conversation, Nyota became somewhat guarded. "Indeed I am, your honor."

"Pardon me for speaking so personally; I do not mean offense. Love matches are good to see. We have all sorts of relationships on Alpha Cachette, many of them arranged. Property and family connections are useful in a formal pairing, but when simple affection is added to all of those practical considerations...it's a fine thing. You are blessed, Lieutenant, and may you remain so."

"Oh! Thank you I wasn't offended, it's just that...on a starship privacy is difficult to find and so we don't always talk about ourselves as a pair. There are other bonded couples, but the nature of our missions makes relationships of any kind difficult."

"Starfleet men and women are attractive."

"I agree with you," Nyota laughed.

"Your ship's doctor, McCoy, wanders through this party alone." Mayor Tutto tapped her fingers together pensively, then grinned. "I shall introduce him to the Chair of the Women's Orgasm Committee."

Nyota's eyes widened. "Ma'am?"

"It is a project of the planetary health service. Medical folk should get to know one another. Time permitting, she may wish to present an informative Women's Orgasm Workshop to the _Enterprise_ crew before you leave. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yes, please – I'll never forgive myself if I don't." Nyota gathered her full skirts in her hands and followed Mayor Tutto to the side of a cheerful, curvy woman dressed in varying shades of yellow and red.

…

"Madam is Orion," Serran said with a tone of slight amazement in his voice.

"Yeah, originally, but I'm a citizen of Earth and devoted to Starfleet now. I've got nothing to say to Orion anymore but hello, goodbye, and bite my butt. You can drop the Madam, handsome. I realize that you mean it politely, but I think we're around the same age, huh? My name is Gaila."

"I am named Serranstivlen. Please call me Serran."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Tell me about what you do on New Vulcan?"

"I am carpenter's apprentice in the shop of Donstelralth, the master woodcarver and artist. I build furniture, houses, I carve ornaments and sculpture."

"How practical and creative. I _like_ men who are good with their hands." She was pleased to see him flush green. "Your hands look very strong. I know that I'm not supposed to touch them…"

"Gaila, I do not object if you want to touch my hands," the young Vulcan said quickly.

"Ooh, really? I'm glad." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'll do it quickly, I promise, and then we'll go get a drink." She held out her hands to him, palms up. "Just go ahead and rest your hands on mine. It'll be all right. I know there's supposed to be something in Orion skin and pheromones that bothers Vulcans, but we can experiment; maybe you're an exception." Gaila sighed. "I'm a fairly outgoing person. I don't have trouble getting along with most beings, even when they have preconceived notions about _me_."

"It is disagreeable to be approached by humans who say…" Serran mimicked a patronizing tone. "'I have never had one of _your_ kind before'."

"Yeah," Gaila said, looking at Serran intently. "I really hate that."

"Agreed. Such comments create the opposite of the desired effect. It is very unflattering and implies that I should be grateful for any attention at all. Physical pleasure is most easily achieved with mutual respect, in my opinion." Serran's gaze wandered down from Gaila's face, along her body, and back up.

"When are they expecting you back at that beach cabin, Serran?"

"I am an adult. I go and come as I please." He rested his palms on hers. Nothing bad happened.

Gaila smiled.

…

Stelen fidgeted. Ensign Steap's expression was a bit too relaxed, too jovial. The man did not openly mock him, but he asked alarmingly personal questions.

"So, no girlfriend? I understand that you work, but don't you...let off steam once in a while? Sometimes your own hands just aren't enough to cover it, so to speak."

Stelendos wondered why the human man assumed that all male beings approached the lack of sexual activity in the same way. Perhaps this was the sort of 'man-to-man' talk he read about in fiction books by and about humans.

"No," the young Vulcan replied. "There are...opportunities for such contact with others, but sexual contact is not essential to sustain life. Some go without...for long periods. Meditation is useful. It is not unusual on New Vulcan." He fell silent, unsure whether or not he had responded appropriately. Stelen was sure of one thing. He would _never_ discuss _Ponn Farr_ with any human, except for one...

"Wow." The man gave a low whistle, as though impressed. "You just go without for months. What do you do with all that time? Never mind, it's a rhetorical question. If Donstelralth doesn't object, I think a little bit of planetside recreation might help you guys out."

Horrified, Stelen wondered how to escape. This man did indeed mock him. The pretense of friendship hid Steap's cruelty. Stelen noticed Charlene Masters leave the dance floor at the side of Engineer Scott, who excused himself when a local person tried to get his attention to ask a question; Charlene sat on a bench to rest for a moment.

Stelen spoke up. "Excuse me. I believe you mock me and this is a wrong action. You should have shame."

Stelen walked away, mentally casting off his anger at Steap and directing his mind towards Charlene.

Steap watched the Vulcan leave, smirking. He rubbed the disc in his forearm. It didn't itch now; he couldn't even feel it. Everyone was busy at the party. If he dropped into the Federation-affiliated medical clinic in town, he might be able to take care of this little problem without anyone noticing he was even gone. His rank would get him admitted to the building; all he needed was privacy and an empty room. Steap glanced around. He would know when to leave and what to do.

…

The young Vulcan paused. It wasn't his language skills that made it difficult to speak to Charlene now. "Perhaps you see me more again in future...you will have more than the sculpture to make you think of me," he said.

"Stelen, if the _Enterprise_ ever comes into orbit around New Vulcan again, I hope that crew members are allowed planetside visits. It would be so interesting!"

Abandoning subtlety, Stelen took a plunge. "Charlene. I want for you to come to New Vulcan, see life there. Our planet has visual pleasures and more. Soon I hope to have my own small shop, perhaps house, enough to support more than myself alone. It is possible to have a good life, good opportunities. Many foreigners have their own business there. Some Vulcans...like me...we accept _all_ beings, we like the Federation, want to live in peace with everybody."

"Well, that's encouraging. I know that some planets are more open to offworlders -aliens, which is what I would be on New Vulcan- than others."

"Hey, excuse me – there's some sort of game going. Do you want to play?" Sulu indicated a group of people moving large wooden game pieces around a series of shapes painted on the ground.

"Ooh, that's intriguing. Come on, Stelen; let's see." She smiled at him and all he could do was follow.

Disappointed, Scotty watched as the young Vulcan accompanied Charlene to the game area. He'd better take a walk, clear his head, and come back in a better mood. This party would surely go on most of the night. Port Town was small. He could stroll back to his cabin, fetch the flask he'd left behind out of respect, and return within less than an hour. Scotty drank far less than many people realized, but he certainly could do with a shot of whisky now. The sweet, pale green stuff in the glass he'd just emptied had little kick to it. Scotty sighed and left.

Dr. McCoy heard his communicator chime softly. He'd set a reminder for himself to check in on the ongoing analysis of Nyota's results. A little more time at the party, then he'd drop in at the clinic for a brief time.

Mayor Tutto approached him with Nyota and a smiling woman beside her. His Great-Aunt Minnie Wiggins would have said a lady shouldn't wear yellow and red at the same time, but on this happy-looking woman the colors were flattering. Nyota seemed surprisingly cheerful, considering her inconclusive medical exam earlier that day.

"Dr. McCoy? May I present to you the head of our planet's Women's Orgasm Committee? She's been anxious to meet you."

Len smiled down into a pair of thick-lashed eyes holding a downright mischievous expression. Unbidden, the memory of a standing intercourse position called the Climbing Vine or the Turning Tree or some such nonsense flew into his head. The head of the Women's Orgasm Committee was exactly the right height to try it with him.

_Red and yellow, catch a fellow._

…

The frisson of arousal in Nyota's mind was small, but experience told Spock it was likely to gather heat and grow. He held his breath and went very still, his attention wandering from the political chitchat of the local dignitaries and Federation personnel around him.

Recent attempts to arouse and share sexual pleasure with his wife had been thwarted by ship business and fatigue. During their few hours alone in the beach cabin he had felt her fear and uncertainty and sought only to comfort her. Now she listened to what sounded vaguely like a medical discussion between Dr. McCoy and a local woman. The odd conversation dealt with some sort of class the woman taught about forming shapes with the tongue and fingers to improve stimulation of the labia and clitoris.

 _I already know how to do that_ , Spock thought.

 _You certainly do. I wouldn't object to being reminded, though_. Nyota's amusement seemed to make their bond quiver.

Spock's eyebrow rose involuntarily, as did something else.

"Please excuse me, ladies, and gentlemen. I have remembered that I must attend to a private matter." He extricated himself from the group and prowled the edges of the crowd, his hands behind his back, seeking Nyota. He found her standing near Dr. McCoy, Mayor Tutto, and a woman dressed in alarming primary colors. Nyota looked up and saw Spock standing across the room. With a few polite words she left the group – McCoy barely noticed – and walked over to him.

_Here?_

_You'd rather wait?_

_Some now. The rest later._

She laughed, and spoke aloud. "We are greedy."

"We have good reason to be."

Like most proper city-owned gardens, this one had a map posted at its entrance. Spock knew where the exits were. He also knew how to find its secluded areas. The first two were already occupied by people embracing and whispering to each other. The third, a bower of thick, sturdy trunks, long branches with trailing leaves, and a scattering of fragrant plants, was empty. Spock pulled Nyota off the path and into the concealing shadows of the leaves on the opposite side of a pair of trees, their bodies hidden from anyone walking on the path.

"This is different for us, public touching," she whispered.

"Blame me if we are discovered," Spock growled, and pulled her into a kiss. He thought only to dull the edge of their shared desire until they could leave the party for the cabin. Their minds were open to each other, and he was pleased to know that she wanted him. The lingering sorrow and desperation he also found made him pause.

"You agree to this because you think it may be the last time we take such a risk?"

"I don't know – there are things we haven't done. That doesn't mean we're obligated to do them. If the exam results are bad...I want us to be together as often as we can. I won't regret any of it, if -" She closed her eyes. "I can't think about it anymore. Just let me want you, and have you." Her fingers moved down the front of his jacket, pulled it open.

" _Ashayam,_ please. I will not abandon you. Do not permit emotions to overwhelm you. Let me give you this." He leaned her back against the curve of a sturdy tree. One warm hand moved beneath the fabric of her skirt, tucked it into her belt, leaving her smooth thigh bared to the warm air and his touch.

They kissed again, slow and deep. Nyota rocked her hips against him until he groaned and pulled her against him; she held on to him, let one hand caress the nape of his neck and play with his hair. The heavier fabric of his uniform trousers pressed against the thin, silky fabric of her underwear. Nyota heard Spock gasp into her shoulder, felt his warm breath arc across her neck just before he bit her. How she'd missed his bites! He sucked her skin into his mouth to soothe it, then released it, licking and kissing as his hands wandered over her breasts, gently squeezing. Nyota heard herself whimper and stopped thinking. She moved her hips until his fly pressed against the cleft between her labia, repositioned herself, felt her clitoris rising from its hood. Spock ground against her, aroused, paused to make sure he didn't hurt her, adjusted and slowed his pace. She panted loudly between kisses, but no longer cared about the consequences. The low purring sounds Spock made hinted that he was close to not caring himself.

She wanted to pull her underwear off completely, to let him in –

"Not here, _ashayam_ ," he murmured.

"Yes, here. Come inside me."

"We are guests here. Please, my _ashalik_ Nyota, do not ask this of me. I would not be able to control myself." He pulled his hips away with a groan, then slid his fingers beneath the damp fabric of her underwear and pulled them down.

"I overheard some of what the woman said about techniques." His fingers parted her labia, neatly pushed back her trimmed hair, slid along the cleft, found their way in. "As I said before, I am already familiar with the techniques she discussed. What I found interesting was the procedure. Pacing and rhythm are something I usually choose to apply to your body spontaneously." He stroked the sensitive edges of her outer lips until she squirmed and pushed her fingers beneath his black undershirt to feel his bare skin. "However, the consistent application of patterns may be effective." He delved deeper into her, angling his fingers differently, carefully penetrating her while the fleshiest part of his hand steadily stroked her clitoris. "You are about to cry out? If I kiss you it lessens the chance of discovery. Open your mouth, _ashayam;_ please do not bite your lip. I am very fond of your lips."

The kiss was hot, wet, and did indeed muffle sound effectively. Nyota's thighs quivered as they paused for breath. "Close, _ashayam_?" He moved his fingers up, focused, stroked, pressed. Nyota clutched his shoulders, for one shimmering moment the only steady thing in the world as waves of pleasure surged through her. She drank in air, her mouth open, and then exhaled in an ecstatic moan. When her eyes opened she realized that Spock was holding her up. He looked down at her with a dazed half-smile; although he hadn't reached his own climax he'd felt her through the bond. She smelled crushed grass and leaves and the sweetness of the flowers and herself.

They kissed again, until she felt sticky and wanted to tidy up with the small towelettes she carried in her bag. She stepped out of her underwear to do it; when she turned around to put them on, they were gone.

Spock interrupted her search. "I have them," he said, indicating his trouser pocket.

"What? Almost two years married to you, and I had no idea that was your thing. Give 'em back, you rascal. I'm not returning to the party without them."

"I will return them upon one condition."

"That depends upon whether or not I _like_ the condition, Mister."

"The condition is as follows: you will tell me, when we are next alone in a private place, of a fantasy you would like to act out with me. I will endeavor to fulfill said fantasy to the best of my ability. This activity will take place without regard to the results of medical analysis. We will give each other affection and attention and attempt to share and enjoy physical pleasure without anxiety. Are these terms agreeable to you?"

"Sweetheart...you surprise me. Of course I agree. Before all of this happened, I was thinking about...oh, I'll tell you later...but for now, I'll tell you that I am so _glad_ you're mine, Spock."

"As am I, _tal-kam_."

…

_**The Guest Cabins Near the Beach** _

The walk in the late afternoon sun relaxed Scotty, and by the time he reached his cabin he felt ready to flirt proactively with Charlene upon his return to the party. He picked up his flask and looked at it; maybe he didn't need liquid courage after all.

The cabin door swung open with a loud, breathy sound like someone exhaling. Scotty turned around to see a young man in Federation uniform enter. His damp red shirt clung to him; he looked cold. The young man neither spoke nor made eye contact with Scotty.

"Are ye all right, mate? Is something wrong?"

Silently, the young man moved toward the panel heater mounted on the wall and raised his hands as though to warm himself.

"How'd ye get wet? Do you need a towel?"

Now he looked directly at Scotty; his eyes were filmy, unfocused. Awareness prickled along Scotty's spine and he dropped the flask.

"I recognize ye now. Craughan-Weale, lost in that conflict with Romulans. Ye were a good and honorable crewman. Why have ye come here? We honored you and the others who we lost that terrible day. Please go, lad. Go and rest in peace."

The young man did not leave. Large drops of water fell from the hem of his shirt, vanishing before they could splash against the floor.

His heart pounding, Scotty tried to reason with the vision. His mouth felt dry but he managed to speak a few words into the still air of the empty-but-not-empty room. "Do you want to take me away with ye? I'm not ready to go. You're shakin' yer head no – not me? What do you want to tell me?"

The young man lowered his arms; his lips formed words which sounded in Scotty's heart instead of his ears.

 _Trouble, from one like you and me_.

He rubbed his cold hands together once more, and then vanished.

Scotty stood puzzling over the warning, shaking from agitation rather than fear. He quickly recited a prayer his grandmother had taught him ( _...Circle me, Lord…compassion upon the departed and the sorrowful...comfort and lay to rest with thy gracious consolations...all things work together for good...)_ , followed by an old-fashioned charm meant to turn away unbidden spirits.

"Am I the next candidate for a psycho-vac?" he muttered. Pulse racing, he looked down at the dry floor, then up at the open door. The eerie prickling along his spine was gone. He was again alone in the room, but he could not bear to be there by himself.

"Communicator, contact Lieutenant Masters, secure channel."

After a brief pause she answered. "Scotty – er, Mr. Scott! How are you?"

"Miss Masters, can you speak privately?"

"One moment, sir." A pause, then: "I'm holding the communicator to my ear. There's nowhere private here."

"Charlene, may we speak alone, right now? Can you come? Please say ye will."

"Yes," she said, unhesitating. "One moment -" Scotty heard the ambient sounds of the party: easy conversation and the clatter of game pieces. Then Charlene's voice: "Excuse me, everybody, I've got to go check in about something. Yeah? Oh, thanks. Maybe Jonesy can play my position? Cool, see you later." Her voice grew clearer as the sounds faded and she addressed Scotty again. "I'm about to get on the bike now. Are you all right?"

"Yes. _I_ am, but – I need to talk with you."

"Oh. Yes, of course. Five minutes."

Scotty paced the length of the small porch with his communicator in his hand. He visualized his grandmother's knowing smile. _Not everyone in our family has the Sight, but you may have a touch of it, dearie. Don't be afraid. Don't tell all of your friends, either. You're neither cursed, nor crazy._

Charlene rode toward him on the bicycle, and he clasped her hand the moment she secured the lock.

"Scotty? Maybe not out here, okay?" She freed her hand and rested it on his shoulder. "You seem...anxious. Let's go inside."

"No, please." Scotty knew that the cabin wasn't haunted, but he wanted to be away from it for a while. If the young man returned, Scotty would feel compelled to ask him questions again. Then Charlene might call Dr. McCoy for help and he'd have difficulty explaining himself. "Walk with me."

They walked to the top of a grassy ridge and sat on a bench overlooking the water. Charlene cast questioning looks at Scotty, but she did not withdraw her hand from his.

"Let me plunge right into this. You remember how we talked about havin' the 'Sight'?"

"Yes. I appreciated the respectful attitude you had about it. Your grandmother had it, so did mine. They just called it by different names."

"I appear to have inherited more than a book collection, red hair, and a gold watch from me dear Granny. Somehow the Sight skipped a few members of the Scott family and landed on me. _Me_ , the one with the spaceship job demanding rationality, reason, and a clear head."

Charlene rested a hand on his arm. "Did you...'see' something?"

Scotty frowned, ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and told her.

"My, my, my," she said softly, a hint of a Carolinan Sea Island accent in her voice. She looked at him, then out at the rolling waves. Her fingers stroked his shoulder reassuringly while she thought.

"Let's break this into manageable parts," she said. "' _Trouble, from one like you and me_ '. Whatever sent this vision to you gave you a few hints: he showed up wearing a Starfleet uniform. There's the most obvious thing you've got in common. A man aboard the _Enterprise_ , or within Starfleet ranks, is going to cause serious trouble. His actions may be serious enough to cause a death; after all, it was a dead man who warned you. How did Craughan-Weale die?"

"Shuttle explosion – a Romulan ambush on a swampy planet over two years ago. Tried to beam his party out, but the _Enterprise_ came under fire before we could get a fix on the position of the shuttle. He was partially trapped inside the craft along with three others; the back of the shuttle sank into the water. If the concussion from impact hadn't killed him, he might have drowned. The two others survived, barely. I felt badly about it. I didn't know him well, played football during shore leave with him sometimes. Good lad. I wrote to his mum afterward, just to say that I was sorry it happened and that he was well-liked. Why'd he come to me, I wonder, instead of Captain Kirk?"

"Maybe we aren't going to learn the answer to that question. My guess? He appreciated your taking time to contact his grieving mother, and wanted to repay your kindness. The answer we should worry about has to do with the warning he gave you. ' _Trouble, from one like you and me_ '. Mutiny, perhaps. Spying aboard the E _nterprise._ Sabotage...that flying device didn't come aboard by itself."

"My dear Miss Masters, are ye not even a little frightened by what I've told you?"

"Never underestimate a city girl with country roots. My childhood summers spent with relatives in Geechee country taught me that things are seldom what they seem...and that our own world isn't necessarily the only world there is. "

"Other worlds? Excellent preparation for Starfleet. Right, we deal with it, remain observant and watch for trouble from within. That's one big issue. Here's another." Scotty brushed his lips across her knuckles. "I have been holding your hand off and on for the past half hour. I wonder what ye think about it."

Gently, she squeezed his hand. "I like it."

"Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable at work. I don't want to create any problems," Scotty said.

"I shouldn't date other crew members, but I like you."

"I like you, too."

A light breeze rustled the tall grass surrounding them, and as Scotty leaned back from the kiss he heard a song carried on the wind – a single voice some distance down the beach, untrained but happily carrying an unfamiliar tune and words. It was a simple song, the type one could quickly learn and share with others.

Charlene noticed, not for the first time, that Scotty's eyelashes were a darker red than his hair. Something about this small difference seemed especially dear. When he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers caressing his face, she leaned forward to kiss the lashes, then his mouth again.

"You really don't think I've gone daft?"

"No." She shrugged. "I don't understand what you saw, but I doubt that you're delusional. I've known you only a year, but for all your sense of humor you aren't prone to exaggeration or distortions. Engineers deal in facts, right?"

"Aye. Charlene, we can take this as slowly as you like."

"Good plan."

…

_**Inside the Federation Medical Building, later that evening** _

The ability to focus and compartmentalize serves Starfleet officers well. Leonard McCoy couldn't believe he'd actually made some sort of date-but-not-a-date with the head of the Women's Orgasm Committee for later in the evening.

Both of them claimed it was an informal meeting to discuss long-term benefits of orgasms on mental health and workplace effectiveness. Leonard was pretty sure this was a ruse, unless he misunderstood the meaning of her strong, short-nailed hand touching his shoulder and thigh during conversation. He might be a doctor, but he was also a man with human weaknesses. What the hell, he'd figure it all out later. Maybe the lady was just really friendly.

He pushed anticipation aside and logged into the computer. The quiet atmosphere of the clinic made him feel calmer.

Dr. McCoy tapped the screen, paging through the results of further investigation into Nyota's case. He read each paragraph carefully, and then sat back with a sigh.

 

"Well, damn."

 

There was a tinkling noise, then a small crash from the adjoining room. Leonard's hand touched his side, automatically.

 

No phaser.

 

He suddenly recalled setting it down on a table in his beach cabin, devoting his attention to fastening his dress jacket. Maybe this planet's sultry atmosphere had relaxed him too well.

* * *

Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:

 _Ashalik=_ Darling.

 _Ashayam=_ Beloved.

 _Tal-kam_ =Dear one.

Some of Scotty's prayer after he sees the ghost is adapted from the _Scottish Book of Common Prayer_ published 1912 for use in the Scottish Episcopal Church; much of that content is based upon the 1662 _Book of Common Prayer_ of England.

 

The "Women's Orgasm Committee" appears to be a real entity in our own time. It is a working committee of the World Health Organization (WHO); the group reviews orgasm research. Unfortunately, little more information seems to be available online and I am unaware of their other work. 

The Women's Orgasm Workshop (WOW) is my own creation.

 

Thank you for reading! Comments, reviews, concrit welcome.


	15. Don’t Start None, Won’t Be None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: none this chapter. TOS fans will recognize reference to The Corbomite Maneuver episode, written by Jerry Sohl.

**Osmosis – a STXI fanfic by zizi_west  
**

**Chapter 15:  Don’t Start None, Won’t Be None**

 

If men swear that they want to harm you when you are asleep, you can go to sleep. If women say so, stay awake. _\- African proverb_

_________________________________________________

  ** _Port Town, planet Alpha Cachette_**

**_Inside the Federation Medical Building_ **

 

 The connecting door between the office and the examination room slid back jerkily, as though its controls malfunctioned. 

 

“Damn it, who tore this place up?” McCoy muttered, entering the examination room.  Blood spotted the floor.  Medical supplies lay scattered and broken over the floor and a table, spattered with more blood.  A door on the opposite side of the room was propped open with a chair; wires and metal parts spilled from a damaged security panel next to it.

 

 

Keeping close to the wall, McCoy looked through the open door and into the long corridor just in time to see a person run around a corner, clutching one arm.  He pulled his communicator from his belt, speaking in a low voice as he pursued. “Dr. McCoy to building security and _Enterprise_ crew.  Intruder, wounded arm, ground floor clinic, Medical. I am unarmed, following at a distance.”

 

“Confirmed, Doctor,” Sulu answered. “Support coming –“

A phaser blast struck the wall of the corridor just before McCoy moved around the corner.  Someone screamed.  McCoy heard objects falling and more phaser blasts.

“Phaser fired, abandoning pursuit. Y’all best hurry up,” he said, and slid the communicator back onto his belt.   Better to take cover.  He returned to the small office and examining room.“Computer, secure door. Contact town security.”





 ...

**_Port Town Center, planet Alpha Cachette_ **

 

Mayor Tutto didn’t scold the aide who tapped her on the shoulder, interrupting her slow dance with Captain Kirk.  As Jim kept one hand on her waist, he felt her body go tense while the aide told her of the disturbance at the Federation Medical Building in Port Town. 

 

“Shots fired?  This sort of thing doesn’t often happen in Port Town.  I’m glad that Dr. McCoy is safe, but—“

 

“Aurelia – Mayor – don’t worry.  Starfleet will help if we can.”

 

Still clad in their evening finery _, Enterprise_ crew members headed for the town center to offer assistance and find out what was happening, accompanied by the Vulcans Donstelralth and Stelen.  Serran and Gaila seemed to have left the party early. 

 

The bridge crew and others went to the Federation Medical Building in small groups.  Nyota was surprised to see Scotty and Charlene arrive from the direction of the beach cabins, but quickly turned her attention to the loud conversations of the townspeople. Some gave eyewitness accounts in Standard, others in Pidgin.  The Federation Medical Building underwent a search after the few personnel working the evening shift were evacuated. 

 

“Lieutenant Uhura, could you please help us?”  Two members of the _Enterprise_ medical crew tended to a crying woman sitting on the curb.  “The same guy who broke in and shot the phaser knocked this woman down and stole her transport vehicle, caused her to cut her forehead and hurt her shoulder.  She’s upset and having trouble expressing herself in Standard.” 

 

“Of course.  Madam, we want fi help…”  Nyota spoke soothingly to the woman, translating while the crew members treated her wound, then placed her into the care of local medical personnel. As Nyota bid the woman goodbye, she heard a man speaking vociferously and defensively in Pidgin.

 

“Fi di last time, I tell you, ‘tis not _normal_ for Alpha Cachette, dis trouble,” the agitated man said. “Doctor, Captain, Commander, Engineer – lissen! I know Port Town got problems like everybody else, but most addicts _we_ got, they don’t smash up de place and shoot at innocent folk.  Why fi not do dat here until _after_ Starfleet come?  Flying thing part of this mess, hear me? I _did_ see what I tell you I see, I _not_ lying.  Starfleet think dey know _all_.”  He crossed his arms and scowled at Kirk, Sulu, and Spock. 

 

Sulu tried not to sound impatient.  “Sir, no one thinks you’re being untruthful.  It’s just that we’re a bit surprised by your description of the object you saw.  Please don’t take our reaction as disbelief.”  Usually Sulu could easily calm down upset witnesses, but this man seemed to take his questions as some personal affront.

 

Spock glanced around them, considering ways to defuse the tension.  One of the omnipresent vulva images was carved into the stone façade of the Medical Building.  “Mr. Sulu, Captain,” he said quietly. “Perhaps Lieutenant Uhura can assist us.”

 

Jim blinked at Spock, and looked at the frowning man again.  A tiny vulva pendant hung around the man's neck.

 

“Right.  Thank you, Mr. Spock.  Lieutenant Uhura, would you join us, please?”

 

Noticing the local man’s bristly demeanor, Nyota smiled gently at him and nodded in greeting. The man’s shoulders relaxed and lowered.

 

“Blessed lady, listen.  Yesterday, we di see small flyer an colored lights inna Port Town.  Fly-fly, quick like.  Nobody catch it.  I did see wey it go: Federation buildings, Town Hall.  Some think, Starfleet.  I di know better.”

 

“Wetin' be dis ‘flyer’ ?” she asked the man in Pidgin. “We di go say ‘spycraft’ or ‘probe’ on _Enterprise_.  An wey be Starfleet in dis palava?”  (What is this ‘flyer’? We do say ‘spycraft’ or ‘probe’ on the _Enterprise_. And where does Starfleet belong in this discussion?)

 

“See here.  Dis drone mek crash self dis morning.”  The man displayed a series of images on the screen of his communicator.

 

“Please, moment, kind man.  We di need show Captain an First Officer wetin yu di see.” Nyota nodded to Jim, Spock, and Scotty, who examined the pictures of a damaged object resembling the drone on the _Enterprise_. 

 

Scotty nodded. “It's a match for the one I saw.”

 

Spock said, “Our spies consistently use the same craft.”  He made the tone of his voice calm as he spoke to the man. “Sir, do you still have the pieces of this object?”

 

“Yah, we di keep it.  I tek yuh nar shop where it crash.”

 

“Thank you for being so careful,” Kirk said. “Security will accompany you to the location, along with Engineer Scott and Lt. Masters, who observed a similar object aboard the _Enterprise_.”

 

“Indeed, sir, we appreciate your assistance.  You will also need to make a statement to the Federation representatives.  Wi mek thanks,”  Spock finished in pidgin, producing a surprised expression from Jim and a pleased half-smile from Nyota.  During the past year, she'd noticed that Spock made more frequent efforts to connect with others, moving beyond politeness to demonstrations of empathy. 

 

She praised him across their bond. _Well done, sweetheart_.

 

 _I do_ try _,  tal-kam._  

 

 

…

**_A rural road on the outskirts of Port Town_ **

 

Two different hyposprays finally eased the pain and bleeding in his arm. Steap almost wished he’d taken McCoy hostage, scared him and roughed him up a little bit in return for the way the doctor had challenged him earlier…after he’d forced him to treat his arm, of course.  With the security cameras disabled, his getaway should have been clean.  Instead he’d bled everywhere and broken things.  He hadn't managed to get the damned disk completely out of his arm; two of its prongs were still embedded in his flesh and he'd formed a lumpy wrapping around the rest of it.  He planned to keep the wound covered and pay off a doctor at the first planet he landed on, someone who wouldn't ask questions about removing it.  At least he hadn’t hit an artery or fainted from the pain.  Nobody knew how tough he really was.

 

Colored lights flashed across the front of the stolen transport, and Steap hit the brake, barely keeping his seat.  He paused on the empty rural road, glancing around him.  He heard a low _whoosh_ and the small drone flew past him again, and then faced him, hovering. 

 

  1. The drone matched the one he’d carried from the cold surface of the football-shaped planet onto the _Enterprise_.  



 

The contraband communicator he used to communicate with the aliens buzzed on his belt.  Steap sat frozen, unwilling to pick it up.  It kept buzzing.  He slowly reached for it and looked down.

 

_We told you to come tomorrow. Why impatient? Return to Port Town or you have nothing._

 

Steap hit the voice command.  “No.  You pay me now, or else.  If I go back to Port Town, I'll sell your information to the Federation.  This is _my_ game now.”

 

A long pause, then:

 

_You come to house here in two hours and get what we owe you._

 

Steap snarled and ended the connection.  The drone hovered several meters away as he gunned the engine of the transport, seeking an alternate route.

 

…

 

**_Port Town Center, planet Alpha Cachette_ **

 

The Medical Building, safely searched, reopened and the staff returned to assess the damage: 

 

  * One phaser stun 
  * One dislocated shoulder 
  * Twenty upset staff
  * One dented maintenance robot 
  * A partially disconnected security system
  * Damaged or stolen medical supplies
  * One irate Dr. Leonard McCoy  



 

The burglar also made off with painkilling and disinfecting hyposprays but no narcotics or other drugs, lessening the possibility that the crime was a common drug theft. 

 

Amid the chaos, Captain Kirk, ever mindful of his crew’s well-being, asked Sulu to check on _Enterprise_ personnel. Sulu's staff fanned out through the dwindling crowd, relaying and receiving messages. 

 

“All accounted for except for one, Captain.  Dr. McCoy’s safe.  No sign of Ensign Charles Steap.  Crew members saw him at the party, but not here.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Sulu.  I asked some of the Ensigns to speak informally with people in the town square, help them understand that we’re here to help.  Maybe Steap joined them. I don't want locals to think that Starfleet is the source of either that drone or the disturbance.  I’ll  go to the town square and see if he's there.  There’s nothing more I can do here until Scotty, Spock, and Alpha Cachette’s security call me with further information about the drone they found.”

 

With his phaser preset to stun, Jim set off alone, letting the cooling night air clear his thoughts.

 

The broad Port Town streets were adequately lit, but Jim still wondered why a woman would walk alone at night, matriarchy or no matriarchy.  The curvy physique moving through pools of light and shadow ahead of him looked familiar.  Jim increased his pace.

 

“Mayor?  Aurelia?”

 

 Mayor Tutto stopped, turned, and looked at Jim in the semidarkness.

 

“Why do you follow me, Captain Kirk?”

 

“No disrespect, Mayor Tutto, but why are you alone? You may think it’s safe to walk around a space harbor town without an escort, but I disagree.  Call your police force and ask them to take you home, or I’ll call Starfleet security to do it.”

 

She looked up at him, her goosebumps prickling along her skin.  He was too tall, too broad, too handsome, and overprotective. 

 

“Young as you are, you dare command me?  This is _my_ town, not your ship, Captain Kirk.  Other planets may be dangerous places, but we are peaceful territory.”  She tilted her chin up and began to stride away.  Jim clasped her shoulders, turning her to face him.

 

“Your planet has court systems and jails just like any other.  I’ll take you home myself and see that you get inside safely.”

 

“Funny.  _Usually_ when a man offers to take me home he offers to do more than just lock me up for the night,” Mayor Tutto said.

 

“Ask me to stay and see what I can do for you behind a locked door.”  Jim gazed down at her, smiling.

 

“So...after flirting with me all night, you _are_ serious?”

 

“When I want someone, I don't play.  Do you want me, Aurelia?”

 

“Yes,” she admitted, “but you're young; there are things you don’t understand.”

 

“So teach me, gorgeous.”  Jim eased his Midwestern inflection back into his speech; the regional accent had charmed even the most world-weary people. “I promise you, I learn quick.  Or slow, if you like it better that way.”

 

Mayor Tutto rested her hands on his broad chest. She’d meant to stop him from moving closer, but now she changed her mind.  He felt warm and solid and good. 

 

Jim bent his lips to her ear. “When this situation’s over, take me to your place and let me show you what I _already_ know.  I'll make it good for you.  I’ve been told that I’m pert' near a prodigy.”

 

“No modest men in Starfleet!”

 

“Got nothing to be modest about.  That’ll be to your advantage.” Jim winked at her.

 

“Hard body,  hard head.”

 

“Hard body, huh?  So you _were_ checking me out earlier.”

 

When had Jim put his hands on her hips? “Let me go before somebody sees us like this,” she said reluctantly. Jim did, immediately.

 

“Why do you pursue me, Jim?” Mayor Tutto asked.

 

“You're smart and beautiful. Why _not_?  Also, we've got something in common.  You’re a Mayor, I’m a Captain.  We lead.  Sometimes I want to be with someone who likes me, not just my title.  You probably know how that feels, right?”  he replied.  “Soon I hope that you’ll ask me a different question.  Like ‘ _Can we do that again_?’” 

 

Jim pulled his communicator from his belt, tapping in a request for Security to join them. “This is Captain Kirk.  Please dispatch two _Enterprise_ security officers to my location immediately and notify local police that I will escort the Mayor to her home office.”

 

The communicator chimed a confirmation tone.  “Aye, Captain.  We’ll be there on the double.”

 

“Thank you. Kirk out.”  Jim ended the transmission.

 

Aurelia Tutto shook her head.  “Do all Iowa farms grow such wild creatures as you? Jim, you aren't even afraid that your men will guess you’re seducing an older elected official!”

 

“You admit that I'm seducing you? Good.”  He amped the Kirk Smile up from lustful to dazzling. “Still worried about what people think? Let's make the age difference work for us.  We can sneak off for hours to play and they'll just think we’re having tea and discussing the Federation.”

 

He gently stroked a finger along the side of her face, then down the part of her shoulder bared by her evening dress. “Just you wait, Mayor.  We’re gonna have a right fine time, you and me.”

 

…

 

**_A rural road outside Port Town on Planet Alpha Cachette_ **

 

Small town people were trusting fools.  Steap didn't even have to hack the transport vehicle's mapping system because its owner used no password.  Alpha Cachette's people were pushovers, distracted by their silly vulva worship.  Steap got alternate directions back to the beach cabins on a lightly traveled road.

 

He looked down at his bloody sleeve, annoyed.  Unfortunately he hadn't found any spare shirts at the medical clinic.  His escape route involved flying and beaming through four different spaceports and he had little time to buy new clothing.  The rest of the crew was probably in the town center, distracted by the incident at the Medical Building; if he hurried, he could grab some clothes and leave for the farmhouse unobserved.

 

...

 

**_At the Beach Cabins_ **

**_Outer Port Town_ **

 

 

 

In sunlight, the long rows of pastel-colored cabins were cheerful.  After dark, the winding paths and bunches of tall, swaying grass seemed to hide shadowy figures, despite the presence of solar cell-powered lights.  The group kept their voices low and phasers ready. 

 

They moved as a unit to each woman's cabin so that she could change into her uniform and boots. Stelendos flushed deep green as Charlene changed behind her bedroom door, almost tortured by the soft sounds of her removing her dress and donning her uniform. 

 

“I'm ready, ladies – and gentleman.”  Charlene emerged, phaser and other gear on her belt, looking determined.  She casually patted Stelen on the shoulder.  His eyes widened, but Charlene didn't even turn around.

 

 _She doesn't know._ Nyota bit her lip, frowning. _Better plan for some girl talk with Charlene...and get advice from Spock._

 

“I'm glad that was uneventful.  Let's check on the search --” Nyota paused, her communicator in hand, as Ensign Miranda held her finger up to her lips, waving her other hand at them.  Everyone froze and fell silent.  Miranda quickly pulled her phaser, aimed towards the next row of cabins.  There was a sound like someone kicking at broken dishes, then footseps.

 

Crouching low with phasers drawn, the women spread out into a defensive formation.  Nyota and Ensign Miranda pressed their bodies along a cabin wall for cover.  Charlene moved into the cover of a different cabin, gesturing at Stelen to keep behind her.  Cautiously, they moved forward. 

 

Charles Steap was tall; Nyota's ears told her how close he was, and she hit the ground just before he pronounced the _b_ in “Stay back!” and fired towards them.

 

Following her instinct, the others also hunched down. Chips of stone and paint flew over her head as the phaser blast hit the side of the cabin, followed  by another shot.  The second shot went wild; he was either too agitated to shoot straight or he found it difficult for some reason.  Taking a risk, Nyota adjusted the sight on her phaser and shot back, hoping to stun him.  Something fell to the ground but it sounded too light to be a body. 

 

“All!” Nyota shouted to her crewmates, and the women fired simultaneously.

 

“Surrender!”  she yelled.  Carefully, she peered around the corner, protected from Steap's view by a section of the cabin's porch.  Steap hadn't been hit by her phaser but the traveling bag he'd carried lay on the ground.  Fragments of the clay vulva sculpture once mounted over his cabin door were scattered as though he'd kicked them. 

 

The sight of the broken vulva made Nyota uneasy, and she opened her mental bond with Spock to request help.  Behind her, Carmelita Miranda pulled herself forward on her elbows so that she could also see.

 

“I can take out his phaser,” she murmured to Nyota in Spanish.

 

“ _Hacerlo_ ,” replied Nyota.

 

Miranda aimed and shot the phaser from Steap's hand.

 

“Nice, _”_ Nyota whispered admiringly. She stood and shouted, “Hands up, Steap!”

 

He raised his hands to waist level silently, as the women advanced.

 

 _He's sizing us up_ , Nyota thought as Steap eyed Charlene.  “I said, hands _up._ Higher.”

“Aww, but I'm wounded,” he said mockingly.  Nyota saw that he had one sleeve rolled up, a patch covering part of his forearm. “Can't you see that?” he snapped.

 

“Watch it, Steap.  Don't start none, won't be none,” Charlene warned him.  “Get on the ground.”

 

Steap bent as though to comply, then lunged and tackled Charlene's legs.  Stelen dove towards Steap, intending to pull him away from Charlene, but the other man pulled Charlene's phaser from her hands and fired at Stelen, stunning him.  Nyota and Miranda aimed at Steap; both heard a _whoosh_ and ducked as a bunch of colored lights flew so close to them that it struck their phasers, throwing off Nyota's shot and knocking Miranda's phaser to the ground.  

 

The beam from Nyota's phaser went wide and hit the power unit on a nearby light, darkening the area where they stood.  There was shoving and scuffling as the women tried to take down Steap.  Steap had a phaser in his hand again, but she couldn't tell whose it was.  He fired at Charlene, then Miranda. 

 

“Stop!” Nyota shouted.  “Starfleet already knows what you did.” He laughed at her bluff.  Nyota reeled under the force of a punch.  She straightened up and hit back.

 

“Ooh, good one, Uhura,” Steap sneered, and hit her again.  She blocked it with her forearm, but the force made her stagger.

 

Years ago, her Auntie 'Chelle had insisted that all girl children in the family study martial arts.  As she fought back in the darkness Nyota remembered her aunt telling her, _Strike towards the sky_.  When moved towards her again, Nyota ducked and swung from her hips, putting her weight behind an elbow strike.  She drove the blow into Steap's solar plexus as though she meant to go all the way through and reach for blue sky. 

It worked.  He wheezed, leaning forward, and she scurried away, her fingers searching the ground for a weapon.  The bunch of colored lights circled back and sped towards her; she ducked, protecting her face, but it came so close that she felt its heat through the fabric of her uniform.  Nyota gasped and tried to find shelter near the porch as the object flew over Steap's head. 

The lights didn't strike him.  Instead they circled, rose up, hovered, then turned and moved away from the cabin, two meters above the ground.  Nyota growled in frustration as Steap turned and ran, following the drone into the darkness.  She heard a transport engine start.  Could she pursue him? No, she couldn't abaondon her crewmates and Stelen!  At least she still had her communicator.  Nyota knelt by her fallen crewmates, issuing voice commands.

 

“Open channel, emergency.  All crew, this is Lieutenant Uhura. Ensign Steap attacked us. Assistance requested at beach cabins.”  Her fingers moved rapidly while she spoke, touching Charlene and Miranda's necks and arms and Stelen's side, finding pulses and heartbeats.  She sensed Spock through the bond, he was relieved, but concerned.

 

“Steap escaped.  Armed, injured, dangerous, following a drone.  He's driving east in a transport. Crewmates Masters and Miranda and our guest Stelendos of New Vulcan are alive, but stunned by phaser blasts.”

 

“Confirmed, Lieutenant.  Spock already spread the alarm and is sending support. We're on our way now.” Jim's voice was tense. “Be careful, Uhura, in case that drone comes back. Don't want to lose you. Kirk out.” 

 

Nyota felt fear, then guilt through the bond with Spock, followed by anger.

 

_He hit you._

 

_Yes, and I hit him back._

Humans often described anger as hot.  Spock's anger could be very, very cold.

 

_Honey, you know you can't hit him just because he hit me._

 

 _No, but I_ _can give him cause for regret_.

 

 

Stelen muttered a few swear words in a colloquial form of Vulcan as he regained consciousness.  He turned his head, saw Charlene lying on the ground a few meters away, and made a sorrowful sound as he embraced her.

 

“Stelendos, _nam'uh hayal_ (be calm),” Nyota said in Vulcan.  “Charlene was stunned by the phaser, just as you were.  The crew is coming with medical help.  Are _you_ well?”  Although the young Vulcan's background seemed to include a few rough years, Nyota suspected he was more familiar with fist fights than phaser blasts. 

 

Blinking, Stelen turned to Nyota.  “Yes, _Okosu_ Uhura.  I am well.  Is _Okosu_ Miranda also safe?”

 

“Yes, looks like she's coming around now.”  Nyota helped Ensign Miranda to sit up, supporting her with an arm around her shoulders. 

 

Stelen sat on the ground next to Charlene and lifted her into his lap, brushing dirt and small stones from her hair. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.  “Charlene, _t’nash-veh kyi’i_ _marom-veh (_ my brave fine one), awaken,” he whispered in Vulcan. 

 

Nyota was intimately familiar with the sound of Vulcan endearments.  She turned her head to see Stelen embracing the groggy engineer.  Curtained beneath the fall of his hair, Stelen did not see her surprised expression. 

The warm touch was soft, but Charlene responded.  “I'm all right,” she murmured.  “Where’s Steap?”

“Gone. You are safe with me. Enterprise crew come with help.”  




“Scotty too?”

 

Stelen hesitated. “I do not know.”  Why Charlene did ask for her workplace supervisor?  Perhaps she was truly dedicated to her work aboard the ship.  Humans did not always like being spoken to directly, Donstelralth had told him once.  What was the Standard word? _Hint_ , suggest that Charlene consider the safer alternative of life outside Starfleet.

 

“Charlene, New Vulcan is at most times more peaceful than this.”

 

She responded with a wry smile. “I'll _bet_ it is! You have a very dry sense of humor at times, Stelen.  I think that I can stand up now. Thanks for helping me.”  She stroked his face.  Stelen responded with a mumble, and stood up with her in his arms.

 

EnsignMiranda exchanged a look with Nyota.

 

“We'd better take cover in case that drone returns, though I doubt it will,” Nyota said loudly.  “Charlene's cabin is closest.”

 

A few members of the _Enterprise_ crew arrived just then;  Stelen reluctantly set Charlene down.  Scotty leapt out of a transport vehicle and hurried over to them, accompanied by Dr. M'Benga. 

 

“Everyone all right?” Scotty asked. “Charlene?”  His hands opened and closed, as though he wanted to reach for her.  Aware of the gaze of others, he didn't.  “Miranda, Stelen? P'raps a bit more adventure than ye bargained for, eh, lad?”

 

“Yes. Much more.”

 

Dr. M'Benga went over each of them with a small medical scanner.  “Everyone's clear.  Get rehydrated immediately – we brought liquids in the transport.”

 

“What about Steap and the drone?”

 

Scotty grinned.  “There's a chase afoot, Lieutenant.  Captain Kirk and Spock are leading it now.  Once that lady he stole the transport from calmed down, she remembered that she'd installed a tracking device on the transport he stole.  Spock relayed permission for you to join this search, Lieutenant Uhura.”

 

“You know I'm on it.  I want to catch him.”

 

Charlene returned her phaser to its holster and looked at Scotty.  “Requesting permission to accompany your search team, Engineer Scott.”

 

Scotty gave her an admiring look.  “Lieutenant, you're always welcome on my team.  Miranda?”

 

“Yes, sir. He's as good as caught already.”

 

“Onward then, ladies!  Try to leave enough of him intact for us to give to Starfleet.  Stelen, please join crew in one of the transports; you're still under Starfleet protection and perhaps we shouldn't leave you here alone now, eh?”  Satisfied that he hadn't sounded particularly possessive of Charlene, Scotty exhaled in relief as the group  loaded into two separate transport vehicles and left the area. 

 

 

...

 

**_A rural area outside Port Town_ **

 

Steap sped along the dark roads into the countryside, trying to ignore the throbbing in his arm.  The drone flew overhead for a few minutes, then zoomed forward and vanished.  Good. The drone made him uneasy, even though it had prevented his capture by Uhura and the others.  Circumstances were finally turning in his favor at last.  The aliens must have finally realized he could ruin them, and that was why they’d sent the drone.  Really, the aliens should have been in his service all along. 

 

The farmhouse looked old and vacant.  Pole-mounted utility lights cast a harsh glow over empty wheelbarrows and  unplanted fields.  Behind the house Steap saw a long, gleaming ship.  The ship hardly looked big enough to house all of the different aliens he'd communicated with during the past several weeks.  No welcoming party? No problem, he only wanted payment.

 

“I'm here now.  Where are you?”  Steap looked around the farmhouse’s large central room, seeing only dim rounded shapes.  No response.  He'd make those aliens pay if they'd ripped him off. “Computer, lights on.”

 

Steap's mouth fell open as he surveyed the odd scene in front of him.  Wigs, false beards, fake teeth, and several sets of clothing lay spread over a large table.  A few meters away, a camera linked to a computer faced a large humanoid figure made from metal and carved wood.  It looked familiar.

 

Multiple sets of transport wheels ground to a halt outside the house.  A phaser blast tore open the front door and additional blasts forced open the windows.  Steap pulled the phaser from his belt and whipped around.

 

Burly Starfleet redshirts, Uhura with phaser in hand, even Masters and Miranda?  Spock and Kirk backing them up, too.  Where were the aliens?

 

Miranda, eyes narrowed, watched his hands.  Charlene Masters aimed her phaser right at his chest.  The hard look she gave him made it clear that there would be no second chance with _her_. 

 

“Drop your phaser, Ensign Steap.” Nyota watched him carefully through the sight of her phaser  “You are now in special custody of Starfleet.”

 

“Oh, I beg to differ, Lieutenant...Uhura, if I recall correctly, based upon Charles' reports?”  The voice was pleasant, almost melodious. 

 

A short, white-robed figure stood in the doorway on the opposite side of the large room.  Beside it rested a massive, cannon-like gun on wheels.  The gun was aimed at her and the crew.

 

“Starfleet people, I must please request that all of _you_ drop _your_ weapons.  Steap now belongs to _me_ , you see.”

 _______________________________

 Thank you for reading!  There may be less of a delay before the next chapter, work schedule & health permitting.  Please take a moment to comment if you like.


	16. The Remedy for Fire is Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter: length (4,590).TOS Trek fans will recognize plot elements & character from The Corbomite Maneuver.

**Osmosis – a STXI S/U fanfic**

**Chapter 16: The Remedy for Fire is Fire**

 

Warnings this chapter: length (4,590).TOS Trek fans will recognize plot elements & character from _The Corbomite Maneuver_.

 

**_Dawa ya moto ni moto._ **

Meaning: The remedy for fire is fire.  Tough situations require bold decisions and leadership.

_Source:_ _Swahili Proverbs: Kiswahili Methali_ , Center for African Studies,University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

…

 

**_Farmhouse in a rural area outside Port Town, planet Alpha Cachette_ **

 

 

One plump hand rested on the cannon-like gun beside a short humanoid figure dressed in a light blue tunic.  A matching cloth cap sat on a bald head above an ageless round face.  Nyota thought of some of the tough, sad-eyed street kids one sometimes saw on colonial planets: leaner and less expensively dressed, but with a similar blend of toughness and frailty.  She felt Spock's protective warmth move closer to her and heard Jim's boots scrape against the unswept floor.

 

“Captain James T. Kirk of the _Enterprise,_ and of Starfleet _._ May I ask who you are _?”_

 

There were far more than 32 teeth in that answering grin. “I am Balok.  Independent operator with allegiance to none.”

 

“Balok, we want to keep things peaceful,” Jim said.  “There seems to be a misunderstanding.  Ensign Steap is part of Starfleet, sworn to duty.  Regardless of his relationship to you, he has orders to stay with us.  He is also the subject of a Starfleet investigation.”

 

“That’s not surprising, considering what I asked him to do for me.”

 

“What do you mean, ' _me_ '?” Steap demanded.  “Where are the other aliens I spoke to?”

 

Balok shrugged.  “The only ' _others_ ' are the mannequin you see there.  Yes, I deceived you.  I thought you'd be more likely to sell Starfleet information to me if I represented a group.  I _do_ have access to technology and wealth, but I work alone.”

 

One bluff deserves another, Kirk thought. “Balok, wouldn’t you rather deal with trustworthy people?  Steap sold classified information from a powerful organization, and that puts _you_ at risk.  Are you sure that you still want him?”

 

The round face frowned.  “Charles Steap may not be honest but he's good at details and has a taste for fine things.  Not a bad choice for a traveling companion.”

 

Charles Steap's head turned as he glanced between Kirk and Balok. “Quit talking about me like I'm not here!”

 

 Nyota’s ears picked up the low _whirr_ of a tricorder.  Spock spoke quietly.  “Reading on the weapon: unknown composition and energy source. Use caution.”

 

Balok kept both hands on the wheeled cannon, which turned slightly from side to side as he regarded the _Enterprise_ crew.  “Steap said he has no loyalty to Starfleet because you do not appreciate his superior abilities.” 

 

The drone rose from the cluttered table where it had lain among the disguises and costumes for the mannequin and flew to hover at Balok's side.

 

“Do _you_ truly want Charles Steap aboard, Captain Kirk?  I offer him a comfortable life if he continues to work for me.  I travel alone and would welcome conversation.” 

 

Jim shook his head. “Steap may work for Starfleet, but he is ultimately a free man; I can’t give him to you.  Balok, you and Steap endangered the innocent people of my crew and my ship.”  He looked at the agitated Ensign. “Charles, Starfleet held so much opportunity for you.  If you had serious problems with your role you could have spoken to me, or Spock as your Commanding Officer.”

 

“Why bother? I gave Starfleet enough time.” Steap glared at Kirk.  “Nobody listens to me anyway.  Females with half my strength and skill get promoted for nothing! Why should I wait until you people _get_ it?”

 

“This persistently bad attitude is undesirable in a traveling companion,” Balok said in a worried tone. 

 

“I'm not traveling with you, you fake.  I give you data from the ship, you pay me. _That's_ our deal, nothing else!”  Steap snapped. 

 

“Do ye really want this deal, lad? There are nae pockets in a shroud,” Scotty warned him. “Better to give yourself up to Starfleet for court martial.”

 

Nyota's hand trembled, but she didn't lower her own weapon.  She could try to stun Balok, but then Steap might hurt Kirk.

 

Kirk tried another bluff.  “Let my crew leave safely, Balok, and you can go do what you like.”

 

“No,” Steap yelled. “No Starfleet, no Balok.  You're a liar and I have other plans.”

 

Balok shrugged.  “So I wasn't completely honest with you, Charles...but then you aren't an honest man either.  I sell information in several different star systems.  Maybe Starfleet doesn't value your skills but _I_ do. No, you will come. It is in your best interest.”

 

Steap aimed his phaser at Balok.  “I'll blast you!”

 

“Hold your fire, Steap!” Spock shouted. “That is an order!” 

 

Balok swung the cannon towards Steap.  _Enterprise_ crewmembers hit the floor or leapt out of range. The cannon caught Steap in a burst of pinkish-white light; he jerked, staggered across the room, and fell, gasping. 

 

“Crew, phasers ready!” Jim shouted.

 

Balok fired toward Jim, but he ducked beneath the broad table and rolled out of the way.  Knocking the table over, he turned it on its side to use as a shield and drew his phaser.  “Give up, Balok.  Last chance.”

 

Balok fired at the crew, and several people fell to the ground.  “I've only stunned them, Captain.  I've already got warrants.  I don't want more Federation trouble. Give me Steap and no one dies.”

 

Nyota saw the light in the cannon's barrel flicker; Balok tried to fire it but instead of a blast of light there was only a weak flash.




 

“They're connected,” she shouted. “Get the drone!”

 

Simultaneous blasts of phaser fire hit the drone, destroying it.  The cannon buzzed loudly. Instinctively, the crew ducked, but it didn't explode.  Nyota aimed at Balok, who held a round, calabash-like object in his hands.  Before Nyota could fire, Balok smashed the gourd against the floor and clouds of blue dust filled the room.  People covered their faces, coughing as they sank to the floor.  Nyota struggled to stand up, but her limbs shook, weak and rubbery.  She wriggled against the floor enough to push her communicator free of its clip on her belt; her fingers worked well enough to tap out a distress call to the planet's Starfleet base.

 

“Space is lonely,” Balok said, dragging Steap towards the back door while the half-conscious Ensign protested.  The small man was stronger than he looked.  “We’ll have some nice chats.  We won't deal with Starfleet again.  Too violent for my taste.  Our next stop is a planet outside the Federation's grasp. They enjoy humanoids there, although they themselves resemble big fish...you'll be _so_ popular.” 

 

Balok pulled Steap into the waiting spaceship behind the house and closed the hatch. “It's nice to be the center of attention sometimes, you’ll see.    Plenty of good food, nice clothes, and expensive tech waiting for you, lots of spending money in non-Federation currency. All yours, as long as you don't try to leave without my permission.”




Fresh air flowed into the farmhouse through broken windows, reviving the crew.  Spock used the tricorder again.  “The blue dust is not toxic to humanoids.  Effects 99.8 percent likely to be temporary,” Spock said, a bit hoarsely.  He pulled himself into a seated position, reaching for Nyota.  She leaned against him, taking deep breaths.

 

“Everyone all right?” asked Jim. 

 

“All crew alive, Captain.”   The ground shook and everyone looked toward the open back door as the spacecraft lifted off into the night sky.




 

“Balok can't just kidnap my crewman, even if he’s a deserter,” Jim barked, opening his communicator. “Captain Kirk to Spaceport Defense.  Emergency pursuit needed – crewman kidnapped by alien spacecraft of unknown origin, silver, cylindrical, vertical takeoff.  Piloted by one Balok, who has taken Ensign Charles Steap by force.  Steap himself is a fugitive, suspected of espionage.”

 

Nyota and other crewmembers stepped through the back door cautiously, found no traps, and looked up at the retreating ship as they took restorative gulps of humid night air.

 

“The local base is equipped with a powerful tractor beam.  We may yet get them back,” Scotty said, watching the screen of his own communicator. 

The faint gleam of the ship suddenly blinked, then vanished.

“Cloaking device, probably.  We’ve got to get to the base!”  Scotty turned and ran back into the farmhouse, shouting for Jim.

 

 

Stelen, who had obeyed Spock's request that he stay inside one of the transport vehicles, saw people outside the farmhouse, apparently safe; he left the vehicle.  He would apologize to Spock for not staying away after he knew that Charlene was safe.  From a distance Stelen saw that she worked, speaking into a communicator and relaying information provided by Engineer Scott, recording images of the inside of the farmhouse.  She and Engineer Scott moved efficiently and easily beside each other even in this strange situation.  Why had he not noticed it before?

 

“ _Shai-tobeg (_ Pardon me), Stelen,” a deep voice said in Vulcan.  It was Dr. M'Benga, who had completed and internship on the old planet of Vulcan.  “Could you please help me take some oxygen packs from this transport into the house?  Crewmembers were exposed to some sort of dust.”

 

“Yes, Doctor.  I want to help.”  Relieved to be part of the group once more, Stelen put his strong arms into action.

 

Swift, sleek fighter ships equipped with their own cloaking devices pursued Balok's ship, using intermittent flaws in the cloaking shield to track it.  Captain Kirk and Commander Spock sped from the farmhouse to the Federation's Defense Center to monitor the pursuit, but soon after their arrival they learned that Balok's craft outran the Starfleet fighter ships, seemingly impossible to track any further. 

 

With no further threats visible in Port Town, _Enterprise_ crew members were allowed to return to the beach cabins for well-needed rest.  Jim, Sulu, Scotty, and Spock remained at the base for hours, analyzing and pursuing every reasonable option. 

 

Finally Starfleet Command informed Jim that one of the fighters had received information about a similar ship in a quadrant beyond Federation territory and lurking within a dangerous, chaotic region of gas giants and watery planets.  Without adequate firepower the pilot was unable to safely chase and retrieve what may or may not have been the ship carrying Balok and Steap. 

 

Acceptance didn't come easily.  Jim reported to Starfleet Command, presenting a final argument in favor of tracking and rescuing Steap, only to be told decisively that Steap's actions placed further pursuit beyond the directive of the _Enterprise_ mission.  Jim had to step back and let the Federation do the detective work needed to capture Balok and rescue Steap – whether Steap wanted rescuing or not.

 

Spock watched Jim as the Captain stood before a broad window.  Dawn layered pink and gold through the clouds, but Jim didn’t see the colors. 

 

“Captain?”

 

“I made the call to Steap’s family, spoke to one of his three brothers.  He never talked about himself much, not even during that surfing lesson he gave me.”

 

“How was the news received?”

 

Jim looked at Spock, wondering how much to say and how much would be understood. “Steap was more than a few steps ahead of us. He’d _already_ told his brothers that he wasn't coming back, Spock.  Said he wouldn't miss them, and it didn't sound as though they would miss him, either.  I understand that not all families are close or overtly emotional but...” he rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Spock, I didn't mean that how it sounded.  Maybe Steap really _did_ need more attention than most people.”

 

“It is often difficult to understand the personal motivations of others.”

 

“Maybe he would never have begun to trust Starfleet...I don't know whether I could have fixed it.  I hate failure.”

 

“You did not fail.  You presented peaceful alternatives to both Steap and Balok, which neither man accepted.  Our defensive response was necessary.  No crew fatalities resulted.  Jim, perhaps you could think about the positive outcomes of this situation.”

 

Sighing, Jim nodded.  “Maybe it’s illogical, but sometimes you’re strangely optimistic.”

 

Spock blinked; optimism was more of a philosophy than an emotion, but he understood Jim's meaning. “I prefer to think of it as a practical, realistic analysis of situations beyond one's control. Optimism, as you call it, may support personal resilience.”

 

“Yeah.  We've done all we can here.  I've already asked Sulu and Scotty to go off duty and get some rest.  You should do the same.”

 

…

 

Sadness hovered over the crew, despite their awareness of Steap's betrayal.  Starfleet was full of optimists who resisted bitterness.  During the ride back to town, Nyota discussed the situation with her crewmembers and Stelen.  _If we'd been friendlier, showed more appreciation, would he still have done it?_   It was too easy to point out that the missing Ensign insulted some people to their faces, shunned others, and seemed interested in little more than climbing up through Starfleet hierarchy.  _Surely he had good personal qualities that just were not obvious_.  

 

After setting the beach cabin's security system Nyota took a thorough shower before collapsing into bed.  Sometime after dawn the temperature of the bed rose, and she rolled over and into the reassuring comfort of Spock's smooth, dry warmth. 

 

“Sweetheart, you’re safe.”

 

“Yes.” He kissed her forehead. “Sleep.”

 

“We lost him?” she asked.

 

“Only after considerable effort.  We must now proceed with the _Enterprise_ mission; the ship will be ready within seventy-two hours.  Please rest, _tal-kam_ (dear one).  Dr. McCoy requests that we meet with him five hours from now.”

 

“He can’t just send me the test results?”

 

“Leonard expressed a wish to speak face-to-face.  He assured me that there is no reason for you to worry.”

 

…

**_Lt. Charlene Masters’ private beach cabin_ **

 

Charlene slept fitfully, but at least she slept for a few hours. . Her internal clock kicked in, and so she made a mug of tea from the assortment Scotty had given to her and sat on the front porch of the beach cabin.  She didn’t feel a bit surprised to see him walking slowly along the path, looking pensive.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“A good morning?  It is now that I see you.” Scotty managed a smile and sat beside her. 

 

“So we didn’t get him, but the _Enterprise_ and crew are safe?”

 

“Yes, that’s how it is for now.  I hoped we’d catch him, the neap – but it’s in Federation hands now.”

 

“I’m grateful that no one was killed.  Will you have some tea? It’s from the stash you gave me.”

 

They sat and talked for a while longer, watching the sea change colors as the sun rose.  The rows of cabins were quiet, most of the crew sleeping late.  With nobody around to see Scotty pulled Charlene onto his lap – trying to protect her from the morning chill, he claimed.  Charlene gave him a wry look but didn’t move.

 

Scotty watched her fingers stroking the reddish hair on his arm.  Her other arm curved around his shoulders, and her fingers brushed along the neatly trimmed edge of his hair.  At the moment Scotty was unconcerned with Starfleet fraternization rules. 

 

“Have you got a 'thing' for gingers, Miss Masters?”

 

“What?”  She sat up straight and looked at him, but Scotty kept his arms around her.  “Hmm.  You’re teasing me.”

 

“Yes, and it is my pleasure to do it.  You’re playing with my hair, lass...all the hair ye can reach at the moment without undressing me.”

 

“So? I like your hair.”

 

“Ah, so you only fancy me for my looks.”  He shook his head in mock chagrin. “Poor me, always the sex object. Someday, I'll be wanted for more than my body.”

 

“I fancy _you,_ ginger or not,” Charlene giggled.  “You are a fine man inside and out, Monty.”  She kissed him above one red eyebrow. “To answer your question, no, you’re not the only redhead I’ve ever noticed, but I think that you may be my favorite.”

 

“Am I, then? Such a beautiful and brilliant lady has a fondness for me.”  He looked up at her.  “I am amazed, Miss Masters.  Instead of talking...can I interest you in relocating that last kiss you gave me just now?  I promise to leave it at that before I go to bed… alone, mind you.”

 

Charlene poked him in the ribs. “Let’s take things slowly.”

 

“Yes, I think we should.  Anyway, even if we both were willing you’d be sorely disappointed in my abilities when I’m feeling this tired. Shall we meet up for a meal later?”

 

“How about breakfast?”

 

“What, in the late afternoon?”

 

“Why not? You’ll be starting your day, and I’m not fussy about food.”

 

“All right then, my dear breakfast monster.  Anything you like.”

 

…

 

 **_Captain Kirk’s Private Beach Cabin_ ** ****

Jim Kirk ordered the beach cabin's computer to set the windows to block sunlight, and slept, dreaming badly.  Repeatedly he reached for Steap, only to see Balok pull him away each time.  When that dream ended the next made him feel worse.  He wandered through a party, trying to talk to people who sneered at or avoided him.  Finally the dreams ended and he rested, waking up at midday. 

 

  1. After washing, dressing, and drinking a hot cup of the local tea, 



 

Jim wandered into town to find food and social interaction.  Many of the crew were either at the beach, sleeping, or pursuing personal activities.  He craved company.  Hesitantly, Jim used his communicator to contact Mayor Aurelia Tutto.  The woman might think he'd brought chaos to Port Town along with the _Enterprise_ , and he couldn't blame her if she wanted nothing more to do with him.

 

Response systems from her private channel sent an innocuously worded message in formal language.  The Mayor had left work early and would consider accepting selected visitors at her private home office. 

 

The visitor list was restricted; only Captain James T. Kirk would be admitted that day.

 

...

****

****

**_Medical Clinic inside the Federation Medical Building, Port Town_ **

 

Despite his legendary grouchiness, Leonard McCoy had moments of almost boyish charm.  Nyota blinked in surprise at his smiling face as she entered the medical clinic with Spock and sat down. 

 

“It ain’t good news, but t’aint bad neither, sugar.”

 

Nyota felt the two fingers Spock had hooked over hers tense at the use of _sugar_.  “Doctor, would you care to enlighten us?” he asked dryly.

 

“Aw, I just enjoy telling folks that they’re going to get well.” 

 

Spock moved so quickly that Len saw only a blur.  The Vulcan was on his feet in an instant, pulling Nyota into a relieved embrace. 

 

 _So.  He’s emotional behind closed doors._  

 

Spock gently set the petite lieutenant down and resumed his usual appearance of calm.

 

“Pardon me, Doctor.  I am appreciative of the good news.”

 

“Yes, perhaps even a little more than I am.” Nyota smiled at her bondmate and returned her attention to McCoy.

 

“Uh, yes.  Nyota, the lumps you found are symptoms of fibrocystic breast conditions.  There are variations; some women have scar tissue or large cysts.  In some cases – such as yours – fibrocystic breast cells have an abnormal appearance.  Certain hormone-like substances may cause your secretory glandular cells, the same ones that produce milk, to produce excessive fluid.  Environmental, metabolic and dietary conditions may be a factor.”

 

“Why couldn’t you tell me this earlier, Len?” Nyota asked. “What happened with the scanner?”

 

“Seems that Steap’s meddling about with _Enterprise_ computer systems caused random corruption of a few medical files and analytical processes linked to your ID.  The work done by Gaila and other Starfleet techs yesterday fixed all of that.  The lumps can be treated with ultrasound or you can wait for your body to reabsorb them naturally.  You must make some lifestyle changes if you don’t want them to return, though.  No more coffee, or at least not daily.  Some patients find it helpful to avoid caffeine.  I don’t want to scold you, Nyota, but you need to eat more balanced meals and maintain a good sleep schedule.  Try that, and the lumps may go away by themselves within a month.  If they don’t, make an appointment with me – and keep it this time instead of delaying it.”

 

“Thank you, Len.” She smiled at him. “I really appreciate all the time you’ve put into this.”

 

“Just doing my job, Ny.  Go on now, y’all. Get involved in some sort of stress-reducing activities and loosen up.  I’ve got a meeting.”

 

McCoy wasn’t just trying to get them to leave.  He really did have a lunch meeting.  The head of the Women’s Orgasm Committee had invited him to some fancy restaurant with private booths. 

 

…

****

**_A small, secluded park outside the Federation Medical Building_ **

 

Nyota’s shoulders hadn’t felt so free of tension in days.  She smiled up at Spock as they left the building and crossed a small, secluded park walled in by flowering hedges. 

 

“You heard the Doctor, sweetheart.  Prescription for stress-free activities.”

 

“Affirmative.  I intend to assist you in filling it.”  He switched to Vulcan.  “Do you remember the agreement we made during last night’s party?”

 

“Yes…you asked me to tell you of a sexual fantasy when we were next in a private place. You promised to fulfill the fantasy to the best of your ability.”  She glanced around the little park.  Only a few scampering lizards would overhear them.  “We are outdoors, but this is private enough.”  They sat on a stone bench, and Nyota leaned close to his ear, letting her lips tease the curves and points of his ear as she spoke.  Spock’s heart thumped more quickly in his side, and by the time she finished speaking he trembled.

 

“ _Ashal-veh_ (darling)…you are wicked and perceptive.  What you describe...is this _truly_ what you wish me to do?”

 

“Yes. This time.”

 

Nyota felt the heat of Spock’s fingers as he stroked her thigh through her dress.  “Allow me four hours to prepare.  I will send you a message ordering you to come to me.”

…

 

**_Inside Mayor Aurelia Tutto’s Home, Port Town_ **

 

“I get tired of being in charge _all_ the time,” Jim said.  He rested on his elbows, aiming a steady gaze at the Mayor. “There are times when I’d be willing to give up a little control.”

 

Mayor Tutto took a deep breath.  Surely this macho golden boy sprawled among the big pillows on her bedroom floor, a handsome, highly praised Starfleet captain, wasn’t suggesting anything close to the naughty images in her mind.  She risked it, stretching out one hand and spearing her fingers through his hair and pulling.  Jim’s eyes closed, and he bit his lip.

“Mmm,” he groaned ecstatically.  Mayor Tutto’s fingers shook with excitement.  She pulled her hand away.  Jim opened his eyes and smiled at her conspiratorially.

“I _like_ powerful women, and I don’t mind if they’re a little bit cruel sometimes.  Do we understand each other, Mayor?”

 

“What about the regular way, no games?” her words sounded breathier than she intended.

 

“Sweet and romantic?  I’m good at that too, but if you want to play…”

 

Mayor Tutto couldn’t shake her head _no_.  She couldn’t point towards the door to tell Jim to leave.  She wanted him.

 

“Maybe I can help you decide.”  Jim knelt at her feet, sliding his fingers into the slit along the side of her skirt. He pushed the fabric aside and rubbed his clean-shaven face along her bare thigh.  “Want me to beg?” he whispered.

 

Mayor Tutto grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into a standing position, and gave him a hard kiss.  Jim moaned and kissed her back, lifting her off her feet. 

 

“Oh, baby.  I _knew_ we were a good fit,” he panted just before they collapsed across the bed.

 

…

 

**_The Beach, Port Town_ **

 

Charlene walked alone on the beach, thinking.  Her parents had shouted joyfully upon hearing of her acceptance to Starfleet, but one well-meaning cousin took her aside for a lecture about single women and starting a family.  How many members of Starfleet managed both?  Nyota and Spock seemed happy enough in their quiet way.  Perhaps Nyota would be willing to meet for some private girl talk. 

 

The rhythmic sound of feet striking sand made Charlene turn around.  Stelen ran towards her. 

 

…

 

Thanks very much, patient readers! I appreciate your taking time to post reviews and/or comments.  Next chapter is probably the final one.

 

Neap= Scottish term for turnip, also slang for idiot (20th c.)


	17. What is Said and What is Heard

**Osmosis – Chapter 17: What is Said and What is Heard**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters & do not profit from depictions of them.

* * *

Courtship consists in a number of quiet attentions, not so pointed as to alarm, nor so vague as not to be understood.— Laurence Sterne (1713-1768), novelist and clergyman.

_Many Thoughts of Many Minds, ed. by Louis Klopsch,1896_

* * *

_**Early afternoon on the beach at the edge of Port Town** _

_**Planet Alpha Cachette** _

Charlene looked at Stelen closely as he approached her, his footsteps striking softly against the soft white sand. It wasn't quite true, what people said about Vulcans being unemotional. Sadness shadowed his eyes despite the clear, warm beauty of the day.

 _Aw, the poor kid_. Charlene understood that differences in planetary orbits and chronologies meant that Stelen might be older than she was, if one only counted years. However, she suspected that he was a bit younger in emotional development and experience.

"Are you all right, Stelen? Is it because of what happened at the farmhouse, or because you'll miss the _Enterprise_ crew? We may meet again, honey."

"You do not know how much I want to hear you call me that and mean it." Stelen touched Charlene's fingers with his own shaking hand, and she drew in a breath. She felt something - not quite like an electric shock, but _something_ that shouldn't have been there, arcing between them.

Stelen looked at her seriously. "It is not a tender way you speak to me, is it? You only call me that for friendship, like Doctor McCoy when he says _sugar_ to Lady Uhura. I want more than friendship."

"Stelen? I didn't know...why didn't you tell me? Or ask me, before..."

"Before Engineer Scott took you?"

"Listen, Scotty didn't _take_ me, I went to him. We knew each other long before you even came aboard the ship, and things were already changing between us." Charlene felt her shoulders go tense, but kept her composure. "I _do_ like you, Stelen, and I care about what happens to you. But I can't stop what's already happening and I can't hurt Scotty. I don't expect you to feel kindly towards him right now, but believe me, he's a good man."

"Charlene, I do not like this." Stelen gave her an entreating look. "What you do if...what _would_ you do if nothing between you and Scott?"

"If there were nothing between Scotty and me, I would...I'd enjoy getting to know you better, but how can we know what would happen? Feelings should come naturally, Stelen."

"Already I know my emotions for you. I make all good for you if you allow. Take you to New Vulcan, try to give you a good life. No, better than try. You will have best of all I can give."

"It's kind of you to say that, but how can I marry a man I've known for less than seven days?"

"Different for Vulcans sometimes, wanting comes like... _pral_ , big wave in the sea. I decide after first time you talk to me."

Vulcans were strong, but Charlene hadn't realized how fast. She hadn't expected Stelen's lips to be so soft. Suddenly she realized he wasn't simply the guileless, innocent young man she'd thought he was. Rather than being awkward, his kiss was slightly erotic. It was alarming to feel herself respond.

_Oh, no! I'm a terrible person. Scotty –_

She put her hands against Stelen's broad chest and pushed. He didn't resist her, but he didn't move away from her either.

"I think it is better if you are _mine_ , Charlene."

Normally, Charlene Isata Masters was a brave, sensible woman; Starfleet required it. At the age of eight she'd grabbed a hoe and neatly dispatched a large snake in her grandmother's garden during a summer visit down South in Geechee country. Neither her grandparents' guidance nor Starfleet's combat training prepared her for a determined alien suitor ready to carry her off to his home planet. Nor had she been prepared for her own feelings for two very different men.

"Stelen – I'm – I don't know what to say – we can't -"

Charlene turned and ran.

…

_**Outside the Starfleet Crew's Guest Beach Cabins** _

"Charlene, what's wrong?" Nyota's hand automatically moved towards her hip before she put a protective arm around her friend's shoulder.

"Nyota, can you please, _please_ talk? Quickly? Like, right now?"

"Sure. Let's go to your cabin, it's closer. How can I help? Do you want me to call Medical, or the Captain?"

"No, neither one. I'm just upset over one of the Vulcan men, and - I don't _do_ love triangles, Ny! I'm a lapsed Baptist!"

"Uh-oh. If your situation's what I think it is, prayers might be in order. Don't give up on that Baptist thing just yet," Nyota replied, closing the door. "Just a second, Charlene – let me call Spock—"

"No! I don't want my C.O. to get the wrong idea about me. I want to keep my commission in Starfleet."

"Charlene, this is an unusual situation. You said a Vulcan's involved. I'm asking him to help you as a friend needing Vulcan cultural advice."

"I don't want any misunderstandings. Could _you_ talk to Stelen or Donstelralth for me? Please? Honestly, I don't know what the right behavior is in this situation."

"Sorry, Charlene, I couldn't – bonded Vulcan mates don't have this sort of discussion with unbonded Vulcan men... this could get complicated, with both of us being humans. Let's clear this up. Are you, uh, involved with Stelen?"

"No! There's someone else...to be accurate, it's only the beginnings of something with someone else."

"Scotty?" Nyota asked gently.

"How did you know?"

"Behind all of his fast talk and jokes, Scotty's eyes and body language speak loudly. He's...softer with you. Seriously," Nyota added as her friend blinked back at her, "it's been going on for months. I wondered if one of you would ever make a move! Not that I'd ever be so unprofessional, but I even thought it might help if I asked Spock to assign you two to a graveyard shift together. Relax, I'm joking," she said as Charlene gave her a shocked look. "You're an amazing, intelligent woman but you just don't notice certain things."

"Girl, come on. You know I'm used to working around engineers. Nonverbal communication and dating stuff can get weird in that environment. Anyway, I don't usually date colleagues."

"They want to date _you_ , though. Larry Riddle? He hates Starfleet coffee even more than you do, but he'll gladly drink it if you're there. And I know all about your tea supply from Scotty." Nyota winked, and Charlene laughed, relieved to feel a break in the tension.

"All right. So, there were a few kisses with Scotty. And some cuddling. Scotty's considerate; he said we should go slowly. I only meant to befriend Stelen. I felt badly for the Vulcans because they had that frightening experience of being stranded. He's kind, and talented, and interesting. Attractive, but I thought he was sort of immature. He came up to me on the beach just now, spilled the secret of his hidden attraction, offered to carry me off to New Vulcan -" Nyota gasped – "and then kissed me without asking, but I didn't slap him or anything. Problem is, he's not just a nice Vulcan boy."

 _I'm not sure that there_ are _many nice, innocent Vulcan boys_ , Nyota mused, but thought it best not to say it aloud. "Stelen shouldn't have touched you. It's not acceptable within Vulcan culture. He must really have it bad for you."

"The problem is, I kind of liked that kiss," Charlene confessed. "More than I should. Unfortunately, I like Scotty's kissing too. Am I a mean, self-centered person for feeling this way? I don't want to hurt either one of them."

"Oh, no." Nyota clasped Charlene's hand sympathetically.

"Come to think of it, Ny...maybe you'd better ask for Spock's help after all."

...

_**Charlene Masters' Guest Cabin** _

Nyota whispered to Spock, who stood hesitantly in the doorway of Charlene's cabin. "Don't worry –" she switched to Vulcan- " _Adun_ , we will have our time together. Just to make sure that we are not interrupted later, please find Stelendos and Donstelralth and let us attempt to resolve this now."

" _Stelendos_? Has that young man done something to Lieutenant Masters? I will see that the appropriate judicial authorities are consulted if he has."

"Calm, dear one. Stelen did not hurt Charlene. He told her he wants her for his bondmate, and she is confused and distressed. She is already...involved...with Scotty in some way."

Spock blinked twice in surprise, and then sighed. "The peculiarities of life among the _Enterprise_ crew are seemingly infinite. I will speak to Miss Masters long enough to address her concerns and provide recommendations for the proper course of action. Then I will offer Donstelralth and his emotion-struck protégé precisely sixty minutes of my time and counsel, although I doubt it will help much. After that time, I must be alone to meditate and prepare for my private time with you. Nyota, you will also take your leave of Miss Masters and prepare to meet me."

"Thank you, sweetheart; Stelen will appreciate your listening ear. Both of those young Vulcans admire you."

"Indeed?" Spock replied in a dry tone. "I was unaware of my influence, as their social behavior did not reflect it."

" _Tch_! You were young once, and I know you are wild in private, which pleases me." She brushed her fingers against his hand, and they both sat down with a nervous Charlene.

* * *

Vulcan vocabulary in this chapter:

 _Adun_ = husband.

 _Pral_ = wave, as in the ocean or sea.

Thanks for your patience between chapters. Personal issues arose. Thanks very much to all who have read and reviewed. I appreciate your taking time to read!

Next chapter: resolution for Charlene and Stelen, and an intimate meeting between Spock and Nyota.


	18. Measure Twice, Cut Once

**Osmosis – Chapter 18: Measure Twice, Cut Once**

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters & do not profit from depictions of them.

 _Warnings this chapter:_ Emo!Spock. He means well.

* * *

Lieutenant Charlene Masters perched on the edge of her chair, one hand nervously twisting the hem of her colorful civilian dress. Her friendship with Nyota meant that she'd attended social occasions where Commander Spock was present. Off duty, Spock could actually be. _..nice_. However, conversation at a Starfleet reception was a world away from crisis intervention involving an earnest young Vulcan carpenter.

"Please relax, Miss Masters. You are in safe and discreet company."

As though Spock had given her an order, Charlene froze, her eyes widening. Nyota reached out and gave Charlene's hand a comforting squeeze, and she became visibly less tense.

"Miss Masters, am I correct in assuming that you have had limited interactions with Vulcans before Starfleet?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Please call me Spock. The nature of this private conversation does not require formalities."

"Uh...Spock. No, I had little exposure to Vulcans but my parents raised me to treat alien – I'm sorry, I mean non-human people – with respect. When our Vulcan guests arrived aboard the _Enterprise_ , people were always polite to them, but not really interacting with them or sitting by them in the common areas. That bothered me. I've been in situations where people wouldn't sit next to _me_." Charlene exchanged a look with Nyota, who nodded.

"Yes, so have I," Nyota said.

"Indeed. As have I. As have _we_." Spock exchanged his own look of understanding with Nyota. Surprised, Charlene saw a fleeting sadness on Spock's face, quickly replaced by a look she couldn't easily describe – affection, mixed in with determination and something unnameable but intense as Nyota gazed back at him.

 

Charlene looked away, feeling instrusive. "Maybe I should have asked Nyota about any gender issues. Is it wrong to speak to unpartnered Vulcan men?" Charlene asked.

 

"Not precisely, Miss Masters. Your good intentions are admirable and in accordance with Starfleet values. However, unbonded Vulcans with limited social experience may misunderstand some human behaviors, and _vice versa_."

 

Charlene said, " Mr. Spock, Stelen never gave me any sign that he was, uh, interested."

 

"If I may correct you, perhaps he did not give you any _human_ signs of his interest."

 

"No disrespect, but how on Earth would I _know_ if a Vulcan man were interested?"

 

"Such signs, on Earth or elsewhere," Spock said dryly, "may include the following: lengthy conversations with you alone; extensive inquiries about personal interests, health, and family situation; among lighter-skinned Vulcans, visible flushing of green in the face and ears; and displays of possessiveness common to many humanoid men. An immature or reckless Vulcan man may also attempt to touch your hands or extend his fingers towards yours as a means of initiating more intimate physical contact."

 

Spock sensed Nyota's mild amusement across their mental bond as she remembered seeing Spock display every one of those signs himself.

 

 _No_ , _Tal-kam, I_ _exhibited as much self-control as possible while you were my student._

 _Yes, I know, and I liked watching you try to hold back_.

 

Nyota felt a rush of sympathy for Charlene as the pretty engineer groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Stelen said he plans to build a house on New Vulcan with a carpenter's shop attached. He also told me he teaches himself about Earth languages and cultures...I thought he was interested in learning new things... Stelen asked me lots of questions about my life, but I thought it was just curiosity."

 

"At the risk of seeming intrusive, Miss Masters, may I ask if you _want_ to become 'involved' with Stelendos?"

 

"How can I?" Charlene looked at the floor, then at Spock. "I'm already involved, and I have a Starfleet contract to honor!"

 

"Indeed." Spock noticed that Charlene had not answered his question.

 

_Nyota, is this evasion some sort of human feminine trait?_

_Maybe she's uncomfortable. Don't push it. Really, Spock, a man might not answer that question either!_

 

Taking note of Nyota's mild annoyance, Spock returned his attention to Charlene.

"Stelendos is an apprentice and he also must honor his own contract. However, beings – human and otherwise – sometimes stubbornly fail to see situations clearly, even when they stand in the middle of them. If you did wish to bond with Stelendos, I would attempt to offer useful advice. However, your comments seem to indicate that bonding is not your choice."

 

Charlene shook her head. "Maybe if I weren't already with – I don't know, I do care for him, but...the time is wrong. Anyway, he's young – maybe not in years but in his _thinking_. Spock, how do I handle this without offending him?"

 

"I have observed you interacting with Enterprise crew in a polite and respectful manner. You have established a friendship with Stelendos. I believe that you already have the appropriate social skills. Speak honestly, and be diplomatic."

 

"Just try to be as kind as you usually are, Charlene," Nyota said reassuringly. "Nothing's going to make it easy."

 

Sighing, Charlene closed her eyes for a moment. Nyota wondered what Charlene would ask if Spock were not present. Intimate questions? _What is it like with a Vulcan?_

Maybe not. The engineer's practical nature hid a romantic side. Charlene's questions would more likely involve solving the puzzle of caring for a seemingly emotionless man.

Nyota wasn't sure that Charlene even knew about _Pon Farr_. Good, because she wasn't prepared to offer any advice on _that_ topic. Even a close friend might be shocked to learn that the efficient, hard-working Lieutenant Uhura had enjoyed thinking about little more than sex and food for several long, delicious days.

 

Spock watched Charlene, a bit concerned. He did not know her well enough to determine the probable pattern of her emotional response to unusual stresses. He hoped that she would not cry.

 

"Charlene?" he said cautiously.

 

Charlene sat up straight and looked at him. "Thank you, Spock. I just need quiet time to think, and then I'll go talk to Stelen. Nyota, thank you too. I appreciate your help."

 

Relieved that no tears were shed, Spock offered support. "I recommend that you allow myself and Donstelralth to follow at a distance. If he refuses to accept your decision peacefully, we will intervene. A reasonable Vulcan man does not force his attentions upon another. Stelendos will likely cease his pursuit once he understands the serious nature of your preexisting relationship."

 

"I, uh…it's not actually serious, but…" Charlene felt her face grow hot and looked away. She didn't know how to describe her raw, new feelings, and she didn't dare admit that those feelings were for both Scotty and Stelen. She tried to look calm. "Mr. Spock, I will attempt to discourage any illusions Stelen has about this situation."

 

Nyota hugged Charlene as she and Spock prepared to leave. "Contact me if I can help, or just listen."

 

Once they were outdoors, Nyota addressed Spock quietly in Vulcan.

"Thank you, _Tal-kam_ (dear one).  I appreciate your wisdom and kindness."

"You are welcome, Nyota. _Adun'a_ , I would like to hear your analysis of my discussion with Charlene."

Nyota cocked an eyebrow at him. "Now? I thought we had a date."

"Affirmative. We will meet in a private location within two hours, as planned; please follow the encrypted directions I sent to your communicator earlier today. Now I will speak to Stelendos and Donstelralth and if needed mediate Charlene's discussion with Stelendos. Afterward I will meditate, then come to you. Please provide your analysis _after_ our private meeting."

 

His fingertips brushed hers; Nyota felt a quick flare of sensual heat.

 

"Ah...I see. It's been too long, Big Man. I'll be ready."

…

 

_**Chief Engineer Scott's Beach Cabin** _

Gasping for breath, Scotty awakened from the sleep he'd hoped would restore him after a sleepless night of combat and confrontation. It was early afternoon; in a few hours he would meet up with Charlene. She'd appeared in his dreams before, alluring and distant. Now she was his in real life, or so he'd thought.

 

Scotty knew that he hadn't dreamed the images of her walking away from the transporter pad on New Vulcan. He knew the difference between dreams, delusions, and the Sight. It was the Sight that told him Charlene Masters would, on some year and day he could only place in the future, step off the transporter pad at the New Vulcan Parliamentary Building with a traveling bag in her hand. Scotty recognized the place immediately – it was exactly where he'd beamed down for his own visit to New Vulcan.

 

He was not on the transporter pad beside Charlene in the vision.

 

"This will _not_ do, lad," he said to himself, speaking aloud in the dimly lit bedroom, darkened by old-fashioned cloth window shades. "If I can see a bit o' the future, maybe I can change it."

 

…

 

_**Donstelralth's beach cabin** _

Although well into early adulthood, Stelen actually stomped his foot in frustration as he crossed his muscular arms. " _Opisdu_ (Lord) Spock and _Osavensu_ (Honored Teacher) Donstelralth, you do not understand. I do not want to wait! New Vulcan has too many unbonded men like me. I will _not_ be another 'bare branch'. I want Charlene _now._ "

 

Spock heard Donstelralth sigh deeply beside him. During his years in business, the older Vulcan had provided vocational and educational guidance to many young Vulcans, as well as advice for those struggling with various aspects of personal life. He had heard and seen much. Only this morning, Donstelralth had scolded the other Vulcan apprentice, Serranstivlen, for leaving the diplomatic welcoming party to enjoy the embraces of the Orion Starfleet officer, Gaila. Now the weariness in Donstelralth's expression hinted that Stelen was an even more stubborn case.

 

Spock was grateful for Donstelralth's presence, as he himself might have lost patience with the emotional young man. Spock's memories of his own illogical, passionate, and entirely too emotional pursuit of Nyota prevented him from judging the younger Vulcan harshly. No being was perfect.

 

"My own youth was not an easy time, Stelendos," Donstelralth said. "Sometimes my self-control failed me. This happened when I experienced strong emotional reactions to certain people with whom I shared friendship. I even allowed aesthetic, _physical_ attraction to affect my judgment. As an older, as yet unbonded Vulcan I manage my emotions more carefully. Someday you too will understand this. You are not ready to bond now."

 

"I am not too young!" Stelen retorted. "It is more than physical desire. Already I know much of emotions."

 

"You do not consider the emotions of the human who already courts Miss Masters," Donstelralth said.

 

Stelen frowned. "I have watched human stories in holos and read translations of human books. They court one another for mere days, then cast each other aside on a whim. Many seek bondmates for years, 'dating' repeatedly and being rejected Why should all of the inhabited galaxies be filled with such loneliness? My intentions are good. Vulcan ways are better; she will learn. I will be a good bondmate to Charlene."

 

"You have not even completed your apprenticeship in my shop!" the older Vulcan snapped.

 

" _Osavensu_ Donstelralth, I _will_ complete it! Never have I failed to keep a promise to you. I will work!"

 

"What of her own work? Charlene Masters is a highly skilled engineer accustomed to life aboard a starship. What is she to do while you are gone for hours?" Donstelralth countered. "Who will offer her company while you are off-planet, assisting me with the purchase of materials?"

 

Spock broke in. "I mean no disrespect for our own people, Stelen, but you know that many, if not most Vulcans avoid friendships with humans. My own mother experienced social rejection, as has my own bondmate. You will have observed that the majority of human women value friendship and support from other women. Despite her fluency in Vulcan language and dialects, and her efforts to interact peacefully with those she met on New Vulcan, my Nyota knows only one Vulcan woman she can call a close friend. Do you wish such a life for Charlene Masters?"

 

"Spock, _my_ friends will accept her," Stelen said, so upset that he forgot to use the formal honorific.

 

"Indeed? Please understand that I do not intend to speak cruelly to you," Spock said. "I draw upon my own experience. I protect my bondmate as any Vulcan should. However, I cannot control the negative social behaviors which persist on New Vulcan."

 

Stelen said, "Vulcan life is changing. It is no longer unusual to see human guest workers and other alien visitors in most Vulcan settlements."

 

" Donstelralth told me that you and Serranstivlen patronize businesses serving offworld clientele and interact with humans, but your behavior is unusual for Vulcans. Starfleet gives me privilege in that I am able to live and travel with Nyota in environments where _both_ of us are accepted socially – or at least tolerated."

 

Stelen appeared shocked by Spock's plain speaking. "Do you not simply ignore the cruelty? That is what I do when humans stare at me. Why are you and Lady Uhura are affected by the actions of those who shun you? Both of you are confident and strong beings."

"Observers may believe so. In truth, it affects both of us in ways not easily perceived by others. It does not corrode our bond because we strive to protect it and ourselves. Stelendos, degrees of social acceptance vary. Do you _truly_ think that I would be accepted on New Vulcan as well as I am if my Vulcan father were a bricklayer instead of a diplomat, and my human mother had not been an academic?" Spock awaited a response from Stelen.

 

"Perhaps not," Stelen admitted. "Wealthy Vulcans find bondmates more easily and quickly than those like me."

 

Donstelralth spoke. "Even resilient beings find bias and cruelty stressful. Positive, or at least benign, daily social interactions are important to humans."

"This matter must be settled between the two of you, but listen carefully to what Charlene says," Spock concluded. "I do ask that for her sake, you will think about how going to New Vulcan will affect _her_ life. Would you leave New Vulcan to be her bondmate? If you truly want her you must protect and support her."

 

Donstelralth asked, "Stelendos, have you actually _asked_ Charlene Masters to bond with you yet?"

 

His face flushed with green, Stelen mumbled, "No, I...the Standard word is ' _hinted_ '. I told her of my work and my plans to build a house with a shop and garden. Also, I told her that New Vulcan is safer than Starfleet life. No, I did not directly _ask_ her to be my mate. I had to _tell_ her that I thought she should be with me, and she was surprised." He sighed heavily. "Do human women always fail to understand subtle communication?"

 

Both Vulcans looked expectantly at Spock.

 

"It is best that I avoid answering that question. Vulcan logic does not apply to _all_ situations."

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _Next chapter:_ Charlene talks to Stelen. Spock assists Nyota with an illogical, whimsical fantasy. The story draws to a close...

The long delay between chapters resulted from real life work & personal responsibilities...all those still reading, I thank you kindly.


	19. Enough Love in Any World

**Osmosis – Chapter 19: Enough Love in Any World**

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek (aside from my original characters and storylines) & do not profit from depictions of Trek characters.

Warnings this chapter: allusions to sexuality. NSFW, not for underage readers.

* * *

_**A Quiet Spot on the Beach at the edge of Port Town** _

_**Planet Alpha Cachette** _

"I request that both of you remain within my sight. Miss Masters, speak for as much or as little time as you need." Donstelralth inclined his head toward Charlene in a courtly manner, and then settled down on a weathered log to wait for his wayward apprentice to talk semi-privately with the Lieutenant.

Charlene smiled gratefully at the elder Vulcan. She and Stelen walked a short distance away and sat down facing the water.

"Forgive me, please, for touch and kiss earlier," Stelen said after a brief silence. "I did not ask you. I am sorry."

"You're forgiven. I think that I understand why you did it."

"They talked with me. New Vulcan is not open to humans in most ways...but I believe it will change someday. You could be an engineer _there_." Charlene gave him a sad little half-smile, and Stelen sighed. "I know Starfleet claims you."

"Stelen, I made a promise and I've got to honor it."

"Yes. I also must complete apprentice contract. Please tell me..." he inhaled, turned to face her. "Do you want bonding ceremony with Engineer Scott?"

"Honestly, I don't know yet; it's just too soon to say. I worked with Scotty and we became friends. Now we're beginning to know each other in a different way."

"Hm." He paused, as though searching for the right Standard words. "That way before bonding is good if you have choices. Not many choices on New Vulcan."

"Stelen, you won't be alone for long."

"You do not want me? Better someone else should have me? "

"I didn't say that!"

Stelen's gaze was suddenly piercing. "You _do_ want?"

"I...I do care," Charlene admitted, "but I can't have both of you! I doubt that Scotty would accept the idea and I can't imagine you doing it either. No matter how I feel, I will _not_ deliberately hurt Scotty. I don't want to hurt you either, but, well, time wasn't in your favor. Or _our_ favor, or something. This isn't easy for me, Stelen."

"No. Also not easy for me. But you come to talk with me." His fingers moved across the sand toward hers, but he stopped himself. "Brave and good, it makes me want you more."

Charlene clasped his strong, calloused hand for a moment, and then let it go. She suddenly wanted to cry. "Oh, honey. Someone else without contracts and commitments, with a free heart is going to realize how special you are, and I'll feel jealous. Someday things will change for you."

Stelen looked skeptical. "I will think about work until that time comes. Finish apprenticeship."

"You'll make an excellent carpenter. You're very focused."

"True. If I want something I pursue it." Stelen held eye contact for a few seconds longer than usual, and Charlene felt a little flutter in her stomach.

"May I send you a simple message sometimes?" Stelen asked. "I promise, no poetry." He managed a wry half-smile.

It would be better to refuse, but Charlene couldn't accept the idea of never learning anything more his life. "Oh...let's wait a little while to do that. But yes, a message once in a while, that would be nice. I want to know what happens to you." She stood up. "We may see each other again before the Starfleet crew returns to the _Enterprise_. Sometimes I'll be with Scotty. I know it will be awkward but I won't ignore you; I'd prefer to treat you as a friend. At least we can greet each other. All right?"

"Acceptable."

"Just imagine – I may hear news of your bonding ceremony before another year goes by."

"May...be." He pronounced the Standard word in two separate syllables. "Always I will remember you."

"You know that I won't forget about you either. I'd better go now. Thank you for hearing me out, Stelen."

"Yes. I want best things for you, Charlene. I want you to have good life."

"I wish a good life for you, too."

Stelen watched Charlene leave. Her orange, white, and green print dress fluttered in the light wind.

 _This is not over,_ he decided.

Measure twice, cut once.

…

_**A Private Building on Alpha Cachette** _

Had a giant scooped up a handful of Alpha Cachette's lush green countryside and packed it into a big terrarium? Nyota looked around the private space she'd asked Spock to rent for their tryst. Dozens of plants - some flowering - and several small trees grew below the curving glass ceiling. Paths between rows of plants led to kitchen, dining, bathing and seating areas set behind walls. High walled sections, tinted glass, and outdoor plantings made the space private. The house was pleasantly filled with greenery and natural light, yet appeared difficult to see into from the outside.

When she'd whispered her fantasy to Spock, Nyota hadn't expected him to find a botanical garden. She'd expected a few large houseplants, or maybe a small greenhouse adjoining a small cabin. Leave it to the Vulcan to seek out an environment embodying her sensual nature, which was just as powerful as Spock's. By now she knew that she and her bondmate were well matched in that sense.

 _You two are such a pair of lechers._ _I stood a meter away from you and Spock and thought my hair would catch on fire from the heat of your repressed libidos._ _Are you sure neither one of you has an Orion in your backgrounds?_ Gaila once joked after watching Spock and Nyota maneuver around each other during a formal reception, barely able to wait until they returned to their hotel room. Ultimately they hadn't been patient, and Spock later muttered an expression of gratitude for deserted libraries and the coverage provided by the high-necked collar on his dress jacket.

Breathing a deep sigh, Nyota relaxed and felt the calmness of the space ease away the tension of the past several days. It was warm, clean and quiet except for the faint sound of fans circulating fresh air, and water dripping from the leaves of a few plants.

Nyota checked the chronometer on her communicator. Spock would arrive within the hour. She thought of the curve of his mouth, his chest, and the musculature of his back as she washed and rubbed a lotion containing cocoa butter into her skin (the look on Spock's face earlier that afternoon suggested that additional stimulation by chocolate-related means might be unnecessary, but Nyota knew that they both enjoyed the scent and feel). She changed into the lingerie she'd brought: a short white slip, an old-fashioned garter belt, stockings, and absurd little heeled shoes she'd rarely consider wearing anywhere else. The air felt slightly too warm for the stockings but Spock had a fondness for legs so she might not wear the stockings for long.

Rolling the last of the stress out of her shoulders, Nyota explored the greenhouse. She found a long, narrow bed sitting in a rectangular space surrounded by large potted plants. It was too small for one person; maybe it wasn't a bed at all. She walked on, admiring the leaves in different tones of green, purple, and colorful flowers, before she found a real bed: simple, broad, and made up with clean sheets in the Earth style. An exploratory bounce indicated that the mattress was comfortably firm.

Her thoughts wandered to Charlene and Stelen. There were times when a person wished with all one's heart that you knew exactly the right thing to say. Had anything she'd said truly helped her friend? The empathy she'd felt for Charlene reminded Nyota of her own troubles. Many well-meaning folk had warned Nyota away from Spock. _There isn't enough love in_ any _world to protect you from what you'll suffer if you choose him_. Everyone had been right in some ways, but they'd also been wrong. Love was constant between she and Spock, but their circumstances changed with every mission or visit home.

What would happen to Charlene if she loved Scotty? Or Stelen? Would one man challenge the other? Charlene's evasion of Spock's question crept back into Nyota's mind. _What if Charlene cares for_ both _of them? Has anyone asked_ _her?_

Shaking her head, Nyota looked around for distraction and found it.

"Ooh! Goodness gracious...Spock can be so _literal_." The red velvet swing hung from a sturdy-looking metal frame attached to the ceiling beams.

Nyota ran a hand over the soft red fabric cover, recognizing the cloth as a washable fabric with a velvety surface popular for use in bed linens and furniture in certain Risan hotels. She'd been teasing when she murmured something about a swing and licked Spock's ear, but here it was. The padded seat looked comfortable. Why not? She hadn't swung in years and Spock was not there to see her being silly.

Nyota climbed up onto the swing and grasped the cushioned hand grips on the bars of the swing. Her feet touched the floor just enough for her to back up and push herself into motion. Giggling, she leaned back and pumped, shifting her weight and using her feet to increase her momentum, leaning back and looking up through the glass panels of the ceiling.

Sky and clouds were visible through the lightly tinted glass; she guessed that the glass was one-way, allowing sunlight to nurture the plants while protecting the privacy of the structure's occupants. The tops of the tallest plants brushed the panes.

The door at the end of the room opened, and Spock stepped through. His muscular arms and chest were well defined in a close-fitting black T-shirt, and his slim black trousers hugged his strong legs. He removed his boots, and then approached her, his bare feet making little sound on the stone floor and none at all on the broad, thick carpet placed below the swing.

Spock's appreciative gaze moved over her body, along her open thighs and under the short skirt of the little chemise. Nyota let the swing slow down as he came near. He reached out toward the bars, carefully stopping the movement.

"Sweetheart, thank you. This place is wonderful."

Spock took one of her hands in his and kissed it. "I suspected that you might not resist the appeal of the swing."

"You know me well." She smiled flirtatiously at him.

"Perhaps not as well as I thought." He held the bars of the swing in both hands, stood between her open thighs. "Although your fantasy seemed illogical and capricious it appealed to me. This way of pleasing you presented me with some challenges. However, the culture of Alpha Cachette considers sensuality important to the well-being of its people. The resources of the Women's Orgasm Committee are extensive."

Nyota remembered the happy-looking woman from the party who had flirted with Dr. McCoy. "You actually told the WOC chairwoman that we wanted a place to -"

"There is no need for shame. The Committee manages such services expertly through encrypted transactions. All that will be known is that two beings made use of this place."

"It's sweet of you to indulge me," she said softly. "Thank you."

" _Ashayam_ , our private time is mutually beneficial." They kissed for a long moment, only their lips touching. When Spock drew back his eyelids looked heavy, and his face and his bottom lip were flushed with green.

"Shall we make good use of our time, _tal-kam_?" he asked, and she recognized the deeper timbre his voice gained when he was aroused.

"Ground rules. I say _frenelle_ , you stop."

"Agreed."

"What's your word?"

"Nyota...we have not been physically intimate recently. I am willing to command, to obey, or to cooperate. I desire no safeword."

"Ah." Her heartbeat quickened. "I understand. So we'll play. You lead first."

Spock's voice was stern but his eyes gleamed with wicked anticipation. "You will address me as Commander during this private meeting, Lieutenant, until granted permission to address me by name."

"Of course, Commander. I will attempt to follow the rules. Sir...may I inquire as to whether you are in possession of the gloves I described in my request?" she asked.

One corner of his mouth curved up in a half-smile as he pulled a pair of short black gloves from his back pocket. The material on the back of each black glove looked soft, like suede; the fingers were smooth. Spock held up one hand and pulled a glove over it, spreading his fingers as he smoothed down each finger suggestively. Nyota's lips parted as she watched him repeat the action with the other hand, and she drew in a shaky breath.

"I want you to touch me with those so badly," she whispered.

" _'Badly_ '?" Spock moved closer; Nyota felt the cloth of his trousers against the inside of her thighs. He cradled the back of her neck in one big hand and ran his fingers along her vertebrae. The leatherlike material of the palm of the glove felt smooth and his heat radiated through it to her skin, making Nyota moan.

Spock released her and turned his hand so that he could stroke her neck and collar bones with the brushed, suedelike side of the glove. Spock watched Nyota's dark eyes dilate as he tantalized her with his warm, insistent touch, tracing patterns over the tops of her breasts, swirling along the lacy trim of the little white chemise. Her lips parted again as she tried to catch her breath. Spock took it as an invitation and leaned forward for an openmouthed kiss, brushing his tongue against hers. When he pulled away Nyota looked dazed.

"You want me to touch you 'badly'? To the contrary, Lieutenant; I intend to touch you very _well_ indeed."

* * *

To be continued...


	20. Nothing Good Goes Away

**Osmosis – a STXI S/U fanfic**

**Chapter 20: Nothing Good Gets Away**

Warnings this chapter: mildly kinky sexuality, purple prose, couple time, Emo!Spock. NSFW and absolutely not for underage readers. Please note: long word count (+ 9K).

* * *

**_A Private House on Alpha Cachette_ **

Spock stepped away, turning to a table holding a pile of towels and small boxes. He opened a rectangular silver case and withdrew a chain made from square links of a copper-colored metal. A smooth, curved oval hung from a space between two of the links. It was too long to be a necklace.

 

"What's that?" Nyota asked.

"You will learn its purpose shortly. At the moment, you are inappropriately dressed."

 

Nyota glanced down at her heeled shoes, stockings, and the little white chemise. The stockings reached only to her thighs and she wore an old-fashioned, lacy white garter belt. "Clarification requested, sir."

 

"Your attire is visually stimulating. However, it covers..." He looked her up and down. "...important areas." He set the chain back into its case, then turned back to her, arms crossed. "I desire complete access, Lieutenant. Will you grant it?"

 

"Yes, Commander."

He extended one hand, motioned for her to leave the swing.

 

"Turn around and grip the bars."

 

She did; one of his large hands reached above her and turned a knob on one of the bars, locking the swing into a stationary position.

 

Spock stroked the backs of his gloved hands along her forearms and shoulders. The soft, suede-like material caused little goose bumps to rise on her skin despite the comfortable warmth of the plant-filled space. Nyota felt her breathing and heartbeat speed up as Spock's soft touch moved down to her bare shoulder blades and the bare skin between the garter belt and her stockings.

 

Warm hands pushed the smooth fabric of the little chemise above her waist. She moaned aloud at the first touch of his tongue licking along her spine. Nyota's reaction drew a low, short, _hm_ of approval from Spock before he planted a kiss on the small of her back. Cool air flowed over her skin before he let the fabric fall back into place and moved away. She heard clinking metal and turned to look over her shoulder.

 

"Do _not_ turn around until I command you, please," he said firmly, and she turned her head back with a small, frustrated sound. Spock moved the links of the coppery metal chain through his hands to warm them before placing it around her waist. Placing one big, warm hand over the smooth, curved projection, he carefully adjusted it between her labia so that it rested above the hood of her clitoris.

"Spock -"

His other hand, cupping her behind, gave her a quick, light spank. Both his actions and her own aroused response surprised her. Their mental bond was clouded by desire, but she felt him worry; he did not want to hurt her.

She took a deep breath, looked at him over her shoulder, and pushed her hips back slightly. The expression in his dark eyes showed that he understood that she granted him permission, even though he wasn't quite sure why she wanted this.

"The proper form of address is 'Commander'." He spanked her again.

"No."

 _Spank._ "Say it."

"Grrr – no!"

 _Spank._ In his growing excitement he was less cautious, and it stung. She spoke the safe word on a sharp exhalation. " _Frenelle_."

 

"Ah – I am sorry." Quickly, he withdrew his hand. _"Ashayam_ , did I hurt you?"

 

"No. Give me a moment." Spock knelt behind her, and she felt him blow a cooling breath over her skin. The stinging sensation faded. Despite the pause, she still felt loose, slippery and dizzily aroused. "Wow. I requested the swing, but maybe _you're_ the kinky one here."

 

"Correction, Ms. Uhura. " He stood up, his deep voice growling into her ear. "You should say, 'You are the kinky one here, _Commander_."

 

"Fine, damn it. ' _Commander_ '. What is that metal thing you put on me, anyway?"

 

Both arms slid around her waist, pressing her against his clothed body. Briefly, Nyota felt him quake with silent laughter.

 

"Have patience, Lieutenant. I assure you that it is intended for your benefit." His mouth moved over her neck, kissing her as his hands moved up her torso and slid under the fabric covering her breasts. Now the suede side on her nipples, then the smooth side. His fingers played with her nipples and her patience. First the suede side brushed over them, making them even stiffer; then she felt the smoothness of his palms caressing and gently squeezing her. Nyota's fingers slid along the bars as her palms grew damp and her knees went wobbly. Behind her, she felt Spock's warmth, heat, and if she moved her hips back far enough, his hardness.

 

"More, Lieutenant?" he asked quietly.

 

"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, Commander."

 

One hand slipped between her outer labia, down, carefully slid a smooth finger up and inside, and she let out a soft cry. His other hand rustled in his pocket. The smooth curve of metal over her clitoris softly buzzed to life, and Nyota laughed, then moaned.

 

"After we made landfall on Alpha Cachette – when we were taking the bus into town – you said that there wouldn't be any metal between us."

 

"Believe me, I have no intention of allowing you to achieve physical satisfaction with the sole assistance of a sexual device." The pressure of his teeth against her neck was brief, but thrilling, before he spoke again. "I may tease you with it, but your pleasure will come from me."

 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on his shoulder, then gasped and leaned forward as her hips trembled in response to the vibration of the metal.

Spock's deep voice sounded gently against her ear. "No pain, _ashayam?_ I will adjust the force and speed if you desire."

 

"No pain."

 

"Good." He licked her earlobe. Spock added a second finger, moving both. Withdrawing, plunging back in. "Do you want more of this?"

 

"Oooh..." she whimpered, and he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers.

 

"Answer me, Ms. Uhura. That is an order."

 

"I want _you_."

 

"Good." Spock tapped the control, and the nub on the belt gradually slowed its steady hum to an occasional throb as he slowly withdrew his fingers. He leaned forward, making her bend beneath his weight. "Please spread your legs by moving each foot two inches on each side." Nyota did, hearing him step back and unfasten his trousers. She waited. Nothing happened. She glanced over her shoulder to see Spock admiring her.

 

"This is a truly...fascinating sight." He leaned over her again, engulfing her with his warmth. "If you were not already mine I would beg for your attention. As it is, I willingly subject myself to your power." Eager and unsteady, he slid into her, thick and hot. Both of them could hear how wet she was. She felt his teeth against her shoulder and heard him groan as she pushed her hips back into him.

 

" _Mos_ (soft)," Spock moaned. " _Ni mos_ (so soft), _ni masupik_ (so wet), _ni rom_ (so good)."

 

"More… _du el'ru_ (your hands)," she said, and he stroked the skin of her belly and her thighs the way she wanted him to, pulling her breasts free of the low neckline of her chemise. She grabbed one of his hands and bit it, making him gasp. He growled a frustrated word in Vulcan and pulled out of her.

 

"I must see your face," he said. "Do you want to see me?"

 

She turned around on unsteady legs. "Yes, love."

 

Spock pulled her close, turned off the vibrating metal belt, and removed it, waiting until her legs steadied. Nyota looked up at him; his eyes seemed very large and dark. Pleased to know that he was affected by her, Nyota boldly cradled his face between her hands and ran her fingers along the edges of his ears. With a shuddering breath, Spock closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and watched her.

 

"Do it again."

 

She teased him, tracing the curve of only one ear with her index finger.

 

"Nyota, more...please."

 

She pulled her hand away. "Have you forgotten the proper form of address?" She teased. "I am ' _Lieutenant'_ to you."

 

"Indeed? Perhaps more accurately, I should call you _Mistress_ ," he said, and seizing her by her waist he lifted her, placing her on the swing's seat. Nyota leaned back and held her thighs around his hips to maintain her balance. His face wore an expression of naked anticipation as he leaned forward, ready to press inside her, but she tensed her thighs and he stopped.

 

"Not yet."

 

She sensed tension radiating from his strong body, but he adapted to the change in their roles without protest. "I will obey you, Mistress. How may I please you?"

 

"I saw two beds in this place. One large enough for both of us, the other small enough to fit only one."

 

"Yes, Mistress. It is your choice which one we will use first." His eyes moved toward the large bed a few meters away, betraying his own choice.

 

"Stop. Why are you looking over there? _I'm_ supposed to decide."

 

"Yes, but..." Spock looked dismayed as she lowered her legs and pulled her thighs together. " _Sanoi_ , Mistress, forgive me. The choice is entirely yours." He knelt and rubbed his face against the bare skin of her thighs above the stockings. He was smooth; he'd shaved before he came to her. He kissed her knees and quickly slid his tongue between them, hinting at what he'd do if she parted her legs again.

 

"What I choose now, _Commander_ , is that you carry me over to that little bed. If you're good...maybe I'll let you have me."

 

Spock complied. He was strong enough to resist her, to disobey, to be cruel, but he never was. She'd always been able to trust him, and he able to trust her. Sometimes strong men could be so marvelously gentle.

 

Following a pathway between a curving row of large potted plants so tall that they nearly touched the tinted glass ceiling of the greenhouse-like structure, Spock carried Nyota to the narrow little mattress bordered by a row of smaller plants. Only a bottom sheet covered the bed. Spock paused at the foot of the small bed and looked at it with distaste, making Nyota laugh.

 

"Don't worry, Big Man." She wriggled a little, and he set her down. Nyota walked around the bed, looking at the unfamiliar vines spilling from the plants surrounding it. Pausing at the end of the bed, she looked Spock in the eye and pulled down one thin strap of her chemise, then the other.

 

Rapid breaths made his chest rise and fall visibly. Nyota turned around and slid the chemise down, undulating her hips a little more than necessary for its removal. Slowly, she turned around; now she wore only the lacy white garter belt, stockings, and shoes.

 

Spock made an unusually inarticulate sound and reached for her, pausing with hands in midair when she stopped him with a stern look.

 

"Pick that up and fold it."

 

Spock quickly retrieved her chemise, pressing it briefly against his face before tucking it into a neat square and placing it on a nearby chair. Nyota sat down on the end of the bed and looked up at him. Almost casually, she stretched out one hand and caressed the bulge at the front of his trousers; he'd tucked himself back in earlier, but now he was quickly growing aroused again.

 

"I could make you use that," she nodded toward the chemise, "make you wrap it around _this,_ " she moved her fingers into his open fly and stroked him, causing him to groan deeply. "I could make you touch yourself, and you'd probably finish by yourself. Would you like that?"

 

"No, Mistress. No, I would _not_."

 

"Then we should finish what you started, back there on the swing. Use that excellent memory of yours, Commander. How did you last touch me?"

 

"I was on my knees and attempting to convince you to part your _own_ knees."

 

Nyota laughed. "I'll let you persuade me." She moved back on the bed, reclining on her elbows. She slid her feet out of the high-heeled shoes, then stretched out one shapely leg . Toes pointed, she stroked the outline of his erection. The delicate rasp of the finely knit threads of the stockings rubbing against the fabric of his trousers seemed loud in the quiet space.

" _Sanoi_ (please), Mistress...give me leave to touch you before I lose control of myself." He spoke through clenched teeth.

 

She pulled her toes away and looked up at him, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Undress for me first."

 

Exhaling, Spock reached for the hem of his black shirt and pulled it over his head. He could have undressed slowly, toying with her as she'd done with him, but Spock knew that Nyota enjoyed seeing him naked. So he got naked quickly, barely giving his clothing a sloppy half-fold before placing it on the chair beside her chemise. Then all his attention turned to Nyota and the way she looked at him. He was more than a body satisfying someone's erotic curiosity about Vulcans, more than the brain admired throughout the Federation. Only she had ever looked at him that way, as though she desired...accepted... _loved_...everything about him and would use every bit of power in her smaller, fully human body to protect and cherish him.

"Gloves off, too, Big Man. I want to feel your skin..."

 

Elevated body temperature caused the leatherlike gloves to stick to Spock's trembling hands. As he stripped off the gloves on his third attempt, he watched Nyota watching him. So small, and yet so complex.

 

 

"Nyota, _ashayam_..." His voice sounded nearly as raw as his emotions felt.

"Come," she said, and when he knelt before her on a square of deep, moss-like padding beneath the bed – perhaps it really _was_ moss – she pulled him into a deep kiss. Spock embraced her as he knelt between her legs, open to him at last. Now that he finally had permission to touch her he didn't want to stop. He smiled when they paused to breathe, pleasantly dazed, and gently pressed her back into a reclining position.

 

"Allow me," he said, and lowered his mouth between her thighs, meeting no resistance this time. Opening her, he stroked her with his bared, warm fingers and tongue. At his first touch – wet mouth, dry hands, all warm – Nyota moaned and her hips rose up from the bed. Spock licked and stroked her, gently, persuasively, until the slight tightness in her hips eased and a different tension took its place.

 

"Relax, _tal-kam_ ," he said, looking up at her. "Put your arms out at your sides, and open your legs wider."

 

As she did, her wrists and knees brushed against the tendrils of the plants closest to the bed. Thick green vines curled around her limbs. Nyota gasped and sat up. "What the –" Immediately, she pulled away, and the plants retreated. She glared at a mischievous Spock. "Spock, please tell me these plants _aren't_ sentient."

"I would never ignore your preference for privacy, Nyota. We are the only sentient beings here. However, they do respond to heat and touch. You will observe that I have been careful not to place myself too close to them. Planetary botanists of the Alpha Cachette Natural Resources Service provided satisfactory evidence that these plants are completely harmless."

Nyota's frown was replaced by a giggle. "Next you're going to tell me that these plants are used by the people of Alpha Cachette for the same purposes _we_ are."

"Correct. According to the Women's Orgasm Committee, they are a popular houseplant. They respond to touch by curling up. You may wish to let the plants hold you, but move carefully so that you do not break them. As you noticed they offer no real means of binding a person. Resistance and restraint are primarily psychological. If you wish to imagine them as real bonds for a short period of time, I am willing to make the effort worth your while."

 

"I'll bet you are." Nyota relaxed her body. "I'm not sure I'll like this but I'm curious."

 

"Please use your safe word immediately if this activity distresses you."

 

Nyota cautiously reached towards the edges of the narrow bed, and the cool vines slid loosely over her warm skin. "Not so bad. I'll try it."

 

Spock gave her a half-smile, lowered his head again, and Nyota fell into a delicious cloud of sensations.

 

Anticipation and pressure built with each stroke of Spock's tongue against Nyota's sensitive skin. Closer, every second closer, but she couldn't let go yet. She balled up one fist and struck the mattress in frustration.

 

Spock pulled away and looked at her. "Such impatience is unlike you, Nyota."

 

"Please – I can't -"

 

"What more do you want, _t'h'yla_?"

 

"Take me."

 

"Yes. Not here." He stretched out his long fingers still gleaming with her wetness, and tapped the plants. The green tendrils relaxed the light hold on her wrists and ankles and Nyota watched in dazed fascination as they curled back against their stems. She'd have to learn more about them, later. Now she looked up trustingly at Spock, who carefully rose to a standing position, keeping his nearly erect penis away from the edge of the bed, before he leaned down and lifted Nyota into his arms.

 

Thunder rumbled, and the light filtering in through the coated glass of the roof turned softer as clouds gathered. "You're shaking a little," Nyota murmured. Spock felt her smooth fingertips brush over his arm and trembled a little more. It wasn't the thunder that made him shake. She knew it and he knew that she knew it, and he was glad because it made her want him even more.

 

They collapsed onto the bed, a broad and sturdy oasis covered in smooth, unadorned sheets. Nyota fell back, opening her arms, and welcomed her mate back. She was so wet now that he slid into her easily, leaning down to kiss her mouth.

She still wore the garter belt and stockings. For a few minutes Spock indulged the both of them with the visual pleasure of watching their bodies join and move while her vulva was framed by the white lace. Then he growled, "I prefer your skin on mine," and they paused, turned and shifted so that he could strip the stockings from her legs and unclasp the garter belt without removing himself from her. No barriers remained. They smiled at each other before the fire between then blazed up again.

 

Nyota opened wider, let him in deeper. Without tricks, props, toys, or muscle-straining positions, they moved together, touching and kissing familiar places on one another's bodies. Places they'd missed after only several days without uninterrupted time together, time free of stresses and responsibilities.

 

Rain pelted the glass overhead with increasing intensity. Nyota listened to her own breathing in concert with Spock's as they moved together, her skin beading lightly with sweat in the humid air. One big, warm hand clasped her hip and tilted her; his fingers stroked over her clitoris and she groaned, then gasped as the first wave of pleasure engulfed her. Spock moaned as she tightened around him, and her pleasure carried him over the edge with her.

 

A little or maybe a long time later, Nyota's eyes and brain focused. Her bondmate had shifted his weight so that he didn't crush her, but it felt lovely to be partially covered by Spock when he was relaxed, warm, and naked and a thunderstorm rumbled overhead. She caressed the back of his neck, and Spock sighed in contentment.

 

…

 

Spock dozed, loose and sated. He was vaguely aware of a shift in weight as Nyota left the bed, and the sound of a shower running. Eventually rhythmic noises fully awakened him, and he opened his eyes to see Nyota, nude, gliding through the humid greenhouse air on the red swing.

 

The sight pleased him immensely, so much that he had an unusually whimsical and illogical thought. Perhaps he could arrange the construction and installation of a similar swing in the small apartment they shared in San Francisco, or in the house he'd purchased for Nyota on New Vulcan. Thanks to Nyota's previous patronage, he knew that Donstelralth's shop was capable of building such things discreetly. Not one word would enter the streams of Vulcan gossip from the shop.

 

The swing was designed for many recreational uses beyond swinging, of course; this _was_ Alpha Cachette, where no woman went unpleased. Spock visualized one particularly stimulating use of the swing. Nyota slowed the swing and grinned at him.

 

"Want to try that now, Big Man?" she asked.

 

"If it pleases you, _ashayam_."

 

"It does. You _know_ it does. Come on over here."

 

She straddled him on the broad seat, her arms around his neck and shoulders and her soft, wet tongue teasing his ears. Spock trembled a little, then carefully pushed his feet against the floor and set the swing into a slow motion, clutching one of the bars of the swing with one hand and holding Nyota safely with the other. The arc of movement would have seemed barely perceptible to an observer, but Nyota felt it and gasped, clasping her internal muscles around his hardness in response to each slight rise and fall of the swing. She felt him struggling to maintain control, groaning as he kept the swing moving. Nyota clasped the bars with both hands, steadying herself so that she could push down, then rise up, then down again.

Later that evening, Starfleet personnel were invited to a casual farewell party organized by Alpha Cachette's Department of Defense. Nyota knew that there was plenty of time before they had to wash up, dress, and steady their minds for an evening of professional chatter. The party was preceded by an afternoon lecture presented by the Women's Orgasm Committee, an event co-sponsored rather suddenly and enthusiastically by Dr. McCoy.

" _Ahh._ Nyota. _Va'ashiv sanoi_ (again please)…"

 

Nyota suspected that she and Spock might be a bit late to the lecture.

 

…

**_Port Town Centre_ **

The flat stones covering the walkway outside the restaurant were still damp from the rainfall, and Mayor Aurelia Tutto's foot slipped. Jim quickly caught her, keeping her upright.

"It's okay, Aurelia. You're safe with me." One strong arm slid around her shoulders, protectively, before he let her go and offered her his arm in a gentlemanly fashion.

Although promiscuous, Jim was reliable in some ways, she thought. He would never establish an exclusive relationship with her, but he'd been very kind and attentive during their tryst. It was a safe assumption that Jim was probably similarly consistent about standards aboard the _Enterprise_.

 

Jim stroked her hand where it lay in the crook of his elbow. "If you ever have any problems here on Alpha Cachette, I will help you and your people if I can. Not just because of the Federation. Ask me for small things too. You've let me take up your time. I owe you."

 

"Jim, we're a backwater among trade planets; things stay pretty quiet unless somebody brings trouble. Then we just deal with it. If you ever come back here on leave..." Aurelia paused and made herself appear as though she didn't already miss Jim, slipping casually into the local pidgin. "We'll do this only if we are both unattached at the time, you _sabi_? I don't hop da fence fi tek mi neighbor's fruit."

 

Jim laughed. "I understand." He lowered his voice, mindful of the passerby in the broad street. "So is it all right if I sleep over tonight?"

 

"Good company is always welcome at my house," Aurelia said. "You're _still_ the only name granted clearance on my home guest list this week, and I don't take back invitations. Plenty space for _you_ in my bed, Captain."

 

"Thank you, ma'am," he drawled teasingly. "I'm pleased to come aboard."

 

The tension in his shoulders eased away. Jim was relieved to know that he'd have her comforting presence beside him all night long.

 

Nightmares came more easily when he slept alone.

…

**_A Private House on Alpha Cachette_ **

The rental information from the Women's Orgasm Committee included a map of the plants inside the partially glass house, and the edible plants were highlighted in orange. Washed and dressed in civilian clothing, Spock and Nyota explored each small botanical zone inside the house, picking leaves and small fruit and placing it into a basket. They cleaned the fruit and sat at a small table near a window with a view of roads and canals, eating what they'd found and looking up information about each plant using the technology built into the house.

As their conversation wandered, Spock listened to Nyota discuss Charlene and Stelen. Although her level of analysis was complex and perceptive, he found himself wondering yet again (it was hardly worth counting, although he knew exactly many times he had pondered this) _why_ human females were so fascinated by intimate relationships.

"If Lieutenant Masters tells Stelendos that his pursuit is unwelcome, he will cease and the situation is resolved," he shrugged.

"Oh, _sure._ Simple as that." Nyota rolled her eyes.

"Stelendos may lack life experience in some areas, but he is reasonable."

 

"Remember what it was like to be younger and unattached, sweetheart. Sometimes a person _knows_ what is reasonable but doesn't behave in ways which seem rational or predictable."

A flush almost as green as the edible leaf Spock held at the end of his eating utensil flowed over his cheekbones and ears. "Indeed. I remember clearly several instances of certain...aberrant behavior I allowed myself during my pursuit of you."

 

Clearly, Spock recalled memories of his own muscle-flexing displays of dominance as he protected Nyota, desperate calls home to his mother for advice, a waltz during which he struggled to keep his body three inches away from Nyota's under the gaze of Starfleet personnel, a pane of shatterproof glass put to its limit as the result of another of his dominant displays, awkward realizations that his colleagues had 'discovered' the cozy restaurant where he'd previously been blissfully secluded with Nyota, and reckless hoverbike activities. At least they'd both worn helmets during that episode. There was no armor for being love-struck.

 

"Oh, my love. None of it bothered _me_. I know you're awfully hard on yourself about those things, but I don't regret any of it, 'cause I have you." Nyota reached across the table and opened the palm of her hand above Spock's.

 

A peculiar energy tingled in the air between their skins, some unseen force that slightly resisted the pressure of her hand. It was an odd, quiet phenomenon which she'd observed after the first few times she was alone with Spock, neither of them working, both of them listening to and talking about personal subjects with the other. Sometimes when she pressed harder, a softly glowing light appeared.

The energy appeared unpredictably, and only when they were alone. Spock never wanted to discuss it, perhaps because there was no logical explanation. He simply accepted it, as he seemed to accept everything about Nyota. Not for the first time Nyota wished she'd been brave enough to ask Amanda about it while she still could - _do you ever feel...some sort of pressure in the air, see a light between you and Sarek_? But of course it was embarrassing, and perhaps impossible, to ask your fiancé's mother questions about what transpired before or during intimate moments - post-coital or otherwise.

Spock set down the leaf he held and gently clasped both of her hands, looking at her.

_Love._

Nyota knew that he wouldn't say anything aloud, but she accepted it.

…

**_Lecture Hall_ **

**_Town Center, Port Town, Alpha Cachette_ **

Anyone from the _Enterprise_ crew with an interest in women's sexual pleasure was welcome to attend the evening lecture. Still hurt by Charlene's refusal to accept his proposal, Stelen had considered staying away, but he'd had enough of walking moodily along the beach. Although his head spun with confused thoughts about emotions and bondmates and courtship, his curiosity compelled him to attend. He slid into a seat in the most distant, dimly lit seat in the domed building just before the lecture began. Stelen scolded himself for trying to find Charlene among the rows of seats but saw neither the pretty engineer nor Scotty. Following the behavior of the humans around him, the young Vulcan applauded politely as the leader of the Women's Orgasm Committee strode onto the stage, smiled, and began to speak.

 

The things she spoke of went beyond the anatomy lesson Dr. McCoy had generously taught to Stelen and Serran aboard the _Enterprise_. There were holo projections of the humanoid clitoris – its full structure resembled a bird with partially spread wings. There was more – useful information on what to do with one's mouth, and hands, and...he had not known anyone might do some of those other things! How to breathe to avoid fatigue in certain positions. Suggestions for gradual timing and pacing – heat and cold – how to please a lady with a sore back – or one who was tired or tense.

 

Most intriguing was the psychological section of the lecture. Stelen heard knowing laughter from some humans in the audience after the chairwoman made certain comments. He also found some of the chairwoman's remarks amusing, but other references mystified him, and he knew that it was not a matter of his Standard vocabulary. He'd spent time with Charlene every day since meeting her, and thought that he understood her. Now he realized it might have helped to ask certain questions.

 

 _Listen_ , the lecturer said. _Observe her responses to you, and act accordingly._

_  
_

Stelen had not attended elite Vulcan academies, but he learned quickly and liked to study. It was now clear to him that a woman was nothing like a mathematical equation or a piece of wood. Perhaps not _listening_ had been his biggest mistake with Charlene.

 

He leaned forward in his seat and listened, an intense expression on his face.

 

…

**_Next Morning_ **

**_Transport Station, Starfleet Base on Alpha Cachette_ **

"I can't wait to get back to my _Enterprise_ ," Jim sighed happily. He rolled one shoulder slightly, working out the last kink from a busy, enjoyable night with Mayor Tutto. As soon as the ground crew announced that all systems were in place, Jim thanked them and stepped onto the transporter pad beside Sulu, Chekov, Scotty, and Spock. Security personnel were already aboard, along with some bridge and engineering crew. Transport systems engaged, and they beamed up.

Charlene had deliberately chosen to beam up in the group immediately following the one including Scotty. Donstelralth and the Vulcan apprentices Serran and Stelen would soon go their own way, taking a large shipment of wood and tools back to New Vulcan aboard a freighter. Charlene couldn't bear the thought of simply returning to the _Enterprise_ without saying goodbye to Stelen, if he was willing to speak to her.

 

He was, only he didn't actually say very much. They stood a few feet apart and looked at each other carefully as Charlene tried to say a few pleasant, noncommittal things.

 

"Serran?" Donstelralth gave the other apprentice a sharp look and jerked his head to the side, indicating his wish to give the other some privacy. Serran almost scowled - he was intrigued to discover that the bashful Stelen was capable of some sort of emotional attachment with human women - but obeyed.

 

"I meant what I said yesterday about contacting me. I'd like to hear from you sometimes, know what happens to you."

 

"Yes." Stelen bit his lip, stumbled over his words. "Please think of me as friend, and safe person to contact if ever you come to New Vulcan. Charlene, I know they tell you, some Vulcans not like humans. But change may come. If you ever want -"

 

" _Starfleet personnel, engineering group 2-A."_

_  
_

Larry Riddle strode past on his way to the transporter pad. "Hey, Charlene. Ready?" He cast a puzzled glance towards the Vulcan, nodded politely, and walked on.

 

Charlene said, "Stelen! Maybe we'll see each other again. Stay safe. I'll be thinking of you."

 

"But -" Stelen's fingers clasped hers. He looked into her eyes again. The stricken expression on his face indicated that one didn't need to spend years locked away in a Vulcan monastery to refine touch telepathic skills.

 

_He knows._

_  
_

Her chin trembling, Charlene pulled her hand away and hurried over to the transporter pad. It would be easier if she didn't look at him, but she couldn't stop herself. His dark eyes never left hers until her image became a mass of swirling particles and she disappeared from view.

Serran had to say Stelen's name twice before he turned and blinked at him.

 

"Stelen? Donstelralth asked that we accompany him to the lumber exporters," Serran said quietly.

 

"Uh...yes. I am ready." It was irrational to stare at the transporter pad as though he could bring Charlene back through sheer force of will. The apprentices turned and walked back through the gate.

 

Years of working with Stelen had taught Serran when it was acceptable to tease his fellow apprentice about personal matters, and when it was not. Although Serran intended to allot a few more years of his life to sensual pleasure before seeking a bondmate, he had no more desire to become a lonely 'bare branch' living on New Vulcan than Stelen. So all he said was, "I believe that I understand why your parting from Charlene is disagreeable."

 

Stelen growled an unclear reply; Serran let it pass. Perhaps Stelen would gain control over his emotions more easily if he could express his concerns verbally.

 

Serran tried again. "Will this parting be temporary or permanent, Stelen?"

 

"No."

 

Serran looked sideways at the stony expression on Stelen's face. "Your response is unclear."

 

"It is clear to _me_ ," the younger Vulcan said cryptically.

 

Hurt feelings sharpened both one's tongue and one's resolve, apparently. Serran sought to reassure his friend and remind him of his place in the matter. "I doubt that Charlene Masters rejected you easily. Obviously I do not know her as well as you do, but she does not seem capable of deliberate cruelty. She pursues Federation business."

 

"True. And I am capable of pursuing Miss Masters."

…

**_Aboard the_ ** **Enterprise**

The familiar beeps and lights of the _Enterprise_ greeted the bridge crew. Nyota looked around at the ship's curving work spaces and devices and interfaces and sighed happily. Spock looked down at her, amused; she smiled up at him.

_Sometimes it's more than just a ship, sweetheart. It's home._

_In a manner of speaking, yes,_ tal-kam (dear one) _. Wherever we may go, in flight or planetside, my home is always with you._

…

**_In the Transporter Room, the_ ** **Enterprise**

Charlene watched Scotty joking and talking cheerfully with the crew. Pleased to be reunited with his beloved _Enterprise_ , he reached out and gave one of the transporter control boards an affectionate pat.

 _Well, ain't that something,_ she thought _. Perhaps Scotty's not the only one with a rival. I may be in competition with the ship._

…

**_Three Days Later_ **

**_Coffee break, the_ ** **Enterprise**

Nyota gave Charlene a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It must have been difficult, but just let yourself deal with it in your own time. You can't predict when or how sparks will fly with someone."

 

"Yeah, almost literally. One time he touched my hand and I felt something kind of like an electrical shock – it wasn't static, we were on the beach."

 

Nyota almost dropped her cup of tea. "What did you say?"

 

"Between our fingers, some kind of energy - sounds silly, I know, but there was something. Not exactly a shock, like when you rub your feet on carpet, but _something_. What's wrong?"

 

Nyota took a deep breath. "Did you happen to get Stelen's contact information on New Vulcan?"

 

"Yeah, I did - despite everything. He's a decent guy. I thought we might keep in touch platonically."

 

"Listen..." Nyota closed her eyes, scolding herself for being disloyal to the man she considered a friend. "I like Scotty. He's a truly good man and my friend. I would never deliberately harm him. But if you two ever part ways...I know you aren't asking for my advice, but maybe you should keep in touch with Stelen. Just to find out, you understand."

 

Charlene looked perplexed. "Is this some kind of Vulcan attraction thing, what I felt?"

 

"I don't know because I've only been with one Vulcan. Stelen might be all wrong for you. Maybe it's only physical. Maybe you're a magnet for Vulcans and you'd feel that same buzz from any Vulcan interested in you. I have absolutely _no_ idea. All I'm saying is maybe you could get to know each other, but only _if_ and when you're both single. Be careful, of course. And be kind to Scotty."

 

Charlene shrugged and tried to smile. "I probably imagined it – there was a lot of tension between us that day."

 

"You're not the fanciful type, Char." Nyota noticed Charlene's averted eyes.

 

Scotty came over and greeted them. He briefly caressed Charlene's shoulder, and the two of them moved a short distance away as Sulu and Kirk came over to talk with Nyota.

Nyota watched Scotty and Charlene while she listened to the Captain and helmsman. Scotty pressed a small wrapped gift into Charlene's hand.

 

 _Too flat for a ring, but too small for a box of tea_ , Nyota thought. She turned away to respond to something Jim said. When she looked back, Charlene was admiring an openwork metal pendant and chain as Scotty smiled at her. Such a thing wasn't practical for an engineer – engineers didn't wear jewelry in work environments – but it was thoughtful of Scotty.

 

Nyota sighed. She must stay out of it. Stelen, Scotty, and Charlene would make their own decisions.

…

**_Twenty-four hours later in Standard Time_ **

**_The_ ** **Enterprise**

Spock and Nyota were already working split shifts again, so Nyota was relaxing alone in their shared cabin when her communicator chimed. Charlene's message asked if she could drop by to talk.

 _Uh-oh_ , Nyota thought. She replied immediately. _Come over._ _I've got plenty of time_.

"More tea? This is nice. Thank you," Nyota said, accepting the box from Charlene.

"Scotty still has a bit of his stash left, and my grandmother said I should never pay a visit empty-handed. Nyota, I probably could have just sent you a message about this or run it through a translator, but..." Charlene decrypted a message she'd received on her personal communication channel on her padd. "Could you please help me translate this? The translation software will tell me something about this message from Stelen, but...the way it _looks_ , I just had the feeling that the software wouldn't tell me enough."

Nyota read the message from Stelen. There were a few sentences of polite greetings in Standard, nothing romantic or even especially friendly; the young Vulcan had obviously produced those lines with translation software. Below that, however, she saw an image of a few columns of elegant, Vulcan script. Nyota knew nothing about Stelen's formal schooling, but at some point he'd learned to write beautiful stylized Vulcan, flowing with sensuous curves. He must have known Charlene couldn't read it but had expressed himself in the language he knew best. The form and style of the Vulcan script reminded Nyota of a collection of ancient manuscripts she'd seen in archival holos. All of the manuscripts had contained love poetry, some of it very explicit.

"Let's go through this line by line." Nyota moved her finger along the script, speaking the words aloud. The content of Stelen's letter appeared innocent; greetings to Charlene, appreciation for her kindness, admiration for her intelligence and aesthetic appeal (Charlene looked pleased). There were allusions to missing her conversation and a wish to meet again. Nothing controversial.

"I should tell you honestly, though, Charlene...the _way_ he's written it..."

Nyota tried to explain the visual similarities between Stelen's script and the love poetry she'd seen.

"...but that's only my interpretation, so use your own judgment. But you already knew, didn't you? You knew that Stelen wasn't just writing you a friendly letter."

 

"I knew it. Damn, I _knew_." All pretense of calm gave way, and Charlene's serene expression crumpled into tears.

 

"Oh, Charlene, I'm so sorry." Nyota put an arm around Charlene's shoulders.

 

What else could she say?

 

...

**_Captain Kirk's Ready Room, the Enterprise_ **

Jim stroked the tiny metal vulva pendant that Mayor Aurelia Tutto had given him. He smiled, remembering how they'd looked into each other's eyes as she slipped the chain around his neck. If his Starfleet work ever brought him back into the orbit of Alpha Cachette – or even if it didn't - he intended to keep his promise and check in on her, doing what he could to help her and the small community she governed. Maybe he was far from perfect, but he was learning how to be nicer to his lovers.

Jim lifted the pendant to his lips, kissed it, and then tucked it out of sight below his black uniform undershirt.

…

Several weeks later, interplanetary gossip found its way aboard via a subspace channel. Nyota listened to an indiscreet navigator aboard a pirate vessel describe an encounter in a bar on a barely governed non-Federation planetoid.

"Met a humanoid, guy tried to run a scam on me. Name's Steeple, Steep or something. Said he knew how to surf, can you believe it? I asked if he'd ever surfed on Alpha Cachette. Said he had, but wasn't going back there 'cause of 'legal trouble' - and anyway that planet's 'run by chicks', he said. Somebody said he's ex-Starfleet. They must have kicked his stupid ass out, 'cause Starfleet's partly run by chicks too! Numbnut. Anyway, he brags about how he's made all this money through con games, transporting drugs through Fed routes without getting caught…I said not me – I make more than enough moving foodstuffs.

"So he got angry 'cause I wouldn't fall for his routine. Then the fool tried to walk out with my jacket, pretended to mix it up with his. No way! I spent a _heap_ of credits to get that jacket armor-plated – he wasn't getting no five-finger discount on _my_ jacket! I had to let him go with a few bruises, because all of a sudden one of his arms sticks out and something drags him by his arm across the floor and out the door like a tractor beam. It pulls him into a vehicle with some short dude, and they take off. All I could think was _Man, I gotta buy me one of those beam things – that'll keep my crew in line!_ "

…

**_Several Months Later_ **

**_A Planetside Mission_ **

Charlene fired her phaser again, and the writhing, wormlike creature went still. She glanced around, but saw none of her away team in the surrounding vegetation. Her skin prickled with awareness as though she were being watched. Taking deep breaths in the damp air, she muttered a quick prayer for her crewmates; maybe at least one of the redshirts had survived the sudden attack unscathed. No one answered her urgent communicator messages to the rest of the away team. Nor was there any reply from the _Enterprise_ , where Larry Riddle manned the transporter pad while Scotty was on leave. Her phaser still held enough charge to help her survive for several days, but after the power died she was on her own.

_Nobody's guaranteed a happy ending to life, but I'd hoped for better than this._

Suddenly another tentacle slithered out of the bushes towards her feet. Another rustle behind her came too quickly to react. Thinking herself surrounded, Charlene tried to turn around, but couldn't move before a thick pressure looped around her waist and dragged her away from the first tentacle's grasp. She drew her elbow back and raised her phaser to shoot her way free.

A powerful hand seized her wrist, stopping her form firing. "No, Charlene. I want that arm."

She froze. Someone held her against a broad chest that felt even warmer than the humid forest air. He lifted her, his other arm under her knees, and she looked up and gasped.

"Stelen?"

The face looking down at her was a little more rugged, the expression a bit harder than she remembered, but she'd know him anywhere. He'd certainly shown up in her dreams often enough during the past year, more frequently now that Scotty had suggested that the two of them "take a break" while he figured out some undefined relationship concerns.

Charlene tried not to struggle under the burden of regret, but the past two lonely months pained her. She'd lobbied for inclusion in the potentially dangerous mission thinking the challenge would help her focus on Starfleet instead of being alone. Nyota urged Charlene to request personal leave, maybe return to Earth to find solace in the love of family. "You could even go visit _my_ family instead, if you're worried about your folk asking why you aren't married yet," Nyota said. "Instead of discussing your status the Uhuras will take you to lectures and concerts and feed you good food. If you _want_ to meet someone, they know a nice astrophysicist from New Kampala..."

Charlene had thanked Nyota, only half listening while she thought of the mission. If she got hurt, so what? Her family and friends would care, Scotty might send a gift or pay an awkward visit. Would she really matter to anyone? Now she almost wished she'd accepted Nyota's offer, despite her cautious relief at seeing Stelen.

Something rustled near Stelen's feet, and he quickly stepped out of range of a smaller tentacled creature. Lifting Charlene easily, he moved her over one shoulder to free one hand so that he could fire his own phaser. The tentacle shrank back into the underbrush. Stelen hurried away from the area, taking long strides.

"Dangerous beasts live in certain type of bush here," he said, moving her so that his arms supported her shoulders and knees and he could see her face again. Charlene remembered his way of talking; he sometimes omitted parts of Standard speech in a kind of Vulcan efficiency.

Charlene pressed her free hand flat against Stelen's chest, as though confirming that he were real. Torn places in her uniform brought her skin into contact with his bare arms. After months of infrequent, politely worded messages between her private comm on the _Enterprise_ and the comm Stelen rented on New Vulcan, she'd almost forgotten just how _big_ Stelen was. The other Vulcans she'd met were taller, but Stelen was broad-shouldered and solid. She imagined him lowering his warm, hard body on top of her own, kissing her mouth and neck, and quivered involuntarily. Stelen inhaled sharply but said nothing.

"Why are you here, Stelen? This part of the planet is barely settled."

"Raw materials for business on planet. Finished apprenticeship. My life changed. Long story. I take you away from here now. Please do as I ask, so we leave safely." He indicated that she should climb onto his back, which she did.

Stelen ran through the trees, carrying her as easily as though she were a hunter's catch. The bouncing movement made it difficult to speak.

Seeing the gentle Vulcan in the role of intrepid rescuer felt odd...although Charlene remembered Stelen telling her he'd grown up in a rough neighborhood, learning to fend for himself on a Vulcan colony before gaining his apprenticeship on New Vulcan.

Could she trust him? He'd never been cruel to her, not even when she'd rejected him on Alpha Cachette. At least he was taking her out of the forest with its strange, deadly creatures. When they reached an area with thinner vegetation, Charlene cautiously pulled off one small metal earring and threw it onto the ground to mark the trail. Next she managed to pull a few expendable items from her utility belt, tossing them down without Stelen noticing. Maybe Starfleet would search for her.

The vegetation thinned and Stelen carried Charlene into a clearing. A small ship painted with maroon, brown, and green camouflage patterns stood in its center. Stelen set her down on her feet.

"We go in my ship."

_Hmm. This doesn't seem to involve furniture making. What's he gotten himself into?_

_  
_

" _Your_ ship? What about my crewmates? Is any of this illegal? I've got to contact the _Enterprise_."

 

"Charlene, not argue, please. Others here on planet take _Enterprise_ crew already to settlement with doctor. Your crewmates told us away team got separated fighting beasts, and you were lost alone in forest. I said I go find you."

 

"Who are these 'others'? Where are you taking me, Stelen?" She gestured at the ship as Stelen tapped a control on his belt, opening the hatch.

 

"Safe place," he gave her a sidelong look, "but no more beds. You take my bed. I will sleep on floor."

 

Charlene got the impression that he preferred not to remain there, but this was not the time to debate sleeping arrangements.

 

"Stelen, you need to tell me what's going on. I thought you were training to become a professional carpenter!"

 

Vulcan or not, there was no mistaking the flirtation in his voice and smile.

"Lieutenant Charlene, I _am_ a professional carpenter now…and I am other things as well."

 

_To be continued…perhaps._

* * *

The chapter title "Nothing Good Gets Away" is taken from a 1958 letter by John Steinbeck to his oldest son, Thom, in which he provides kind and honest advice on love. Read this charming letter in its entirety at the Brainpickings dot org site; look for the January 12, 2012 post.

 


End file.
